The Shepherd of Algaria
by Jiriasu
Summary: The War of Destinies was Over. Light had triumphed and drove the Darkness away. All was was finally alright with this world.But there are more worlds than just this one. Repost of the older story, with the badly needed formatting.
1. Chapter 1

Slowly the sun rose over the open plains of Algaria, cascading its light upon the emerald carpet which spread upon that even ground. Birds flew in the air, singing their pleasant songs, while the cattle herds chewed hungrily upon the field's vast grasses. Bees went flying around to the few flowers, taking their nectar for honey. The today looked like it was going to be a beautiful one.

Herding cattle was the main occupation of those who lived in the land of Algaria, and the head herdsman took his job seriously. He trudged through the fields, checking each and every cattle as he came to it. His life was so centered around the herd that he could probably name each and every bull or cow by his or her own actions. He was checking for predators, such as bears or wolves. This was normally the watchman's job, but he never really trusted the watchman on right now. Infact, there was a good reason for this, as the watchman was asleep next to a rock not too far away from him.

The watchman was actually a boy about 13 years of age. He wore a slightly ragged tunic covered by a sheep-skin coat. His hair was sandy blond, and his eyes were the deepest of blue. However, one could not see his eyes at that point, as his eyelids were firmly shut around them. The herdsmaster sighed softly, as he walked up to this youth. Placing his hand on the child's shoulder, he shook him several times.

"Kid!" He said as he shook the boy. "Wake up!" Slowly, the boy awoke from his daydream. He lookd around slowly, rubbing his eyes to clear them from the dew which hung upon his lashes. He then inclined his head up towards the herdsmaster who was towering over him.

"Yes sir?" The boy asked. It wasn't really much of a question, as he knew what he was doing wrong. Of course, he could not act as if he had known it, or the herdsmaster would have gotten more upset.

"What am I going to do with you Kid?" replied the herdsmaster mildly. "You fall asleep when you watch the cattle, you can barely cook. You aren't all that strong, and you don't ride a horse all that well." He sighed softly to himself. Although he had a high ranking job, he was not one of those who came down upon his workers. "Remind me, why don't we send you to the army?"

The question was relevant. Most boys his age who did not show any particular talent that was needed back at home were sent for army training.

"Well..." the boy with the sandy locks began, "As you said, I am not all that strong. However, I do play the flute decently well, which provides you people with entertainment during dinner."

The herdsmaster smiled slightly. The boy was right on both accounts. He couldn't send such a weak child to the army, even though the kid was decently fast. Also, supper would never quite be the same without that kids flute...

"Oh just leave your post, I will go find someone else to do it." The herdsmaster sighed softly. The kid might as well leave, he wasn't doing anything at his post anyway besides sleeping. If he got someone older to do it, they would do a better job.

"Thank you, sir", said the child. He then got himself up, and began to walk away from his herdsmaster.

"Oh..", the herdsmaster called after him, "If you see Setton, tell him that he is on now. He might be sleeping so wake him up."

The Kid turned around slowly to nod back to the herdsmaster. Then after that brief gesture, he headed back towards the camp.

Being cattle herders, they had to have a camp which could pick up and move once the cattle needed to graze elsewhere. Therefore, they lived in fabric tents which were easy to take down and put up. Even though their camp was not a fancy camp, but it wasn't a poor one either. They had sufficient food and drink, enough to live comfortably. From the canvas tents one could usually smell fresh baked bread or possibly grilled meats. There was an ale brewery towards the center of the camp, ale being extremely important to the Algars. The camp was seperated by class, family and job, the most important being closer to the center. The warriors who protected the camp from Agnarack attacks lived closer to the outside, while the others lived in the middle.

Setton lived towards the outside of the middle area, since he was strong and could help the warriors if need be. His tent was yellowish in color, perhaps because he failed to take care of it when it needed cleaning. As the Kid walked inside, he could smell the damp scent of ale, which Setton had obviously had the night before. Clothes were strewn everywhere, and Setton was sleeping blankly upon his bed, just like the herdsmaster said he would be.

Slowly, the kid walk to up Setton, and gently shook him in an effort to wake him. Setton rolled over a bit, groaning something like a young child. Finally, the kid got impatient, and he just opened the front flap of the tent. Light poured in all over Setton's face, waking him almost instantaneously.

"Hey! What was that for!" Setton cried out as he tried to adjust his eyes to the sunlight. Once he could see, Setton looked around the room for his waker. The kid was standing near the door flaps, pointing out to the fields.

"The herdsmaster told me to wake you," the kid said in defense for himself. It was not unknown that Setton often thought himself more important then people like himself, and so he tried to be polite as possible. "He sent me to tell you that it is your watch."

"Kid!" Setton spewed from his clenched teeth, "You expect me to believe that! What time is it anyway? What day is it!"

The kid looked at Setton cautiously. He was already off to a bad start, so he had to now pick his words correctly. "Its 2 hours after sunrise. If you don't believe that the herdsmaster sent me to get you, why don't you go ask him yourself?"

Setton glared down at the kid, his eyes almost burning like fire. He quickly got himself up, and walked out of his tent with a huff. Briefly he turned around and threw a sharp glance at the kid. "Make yourself useful! Go get me breakfast kid!", he said with a superior tone. He then took off for the fields.

The kid let out a sigh, as he kicked the blanket from his way. It wasn't just Setton that treated him this way. Almost every person in the camp treated him like that. There were only a limited few who treated him normally. Also, he didn't know why people had to call him "Kid", which is such an ugly word. It was only fitted to the young goats that roamed the pastures along with the cattle, and the last time he checked, he was not a goat. He had a name of course, and it was not an unpleasant name at that. It was "Garriel", although he had no idea where it had come from. His parents had moved from their camp leaving him there alone when he was 3, so he never really got a chance to ask them why he was named it. Actually, he usually didn't tell people his name, because he didn't want people like Setton to use that knowledge against him. For example, if someone did something to Setton, he would not be able to say "Garriel did it", because he didn't know his name. Rather, Setton would say that "The kid did it". Now that helped Garriel a lot, because there were about 40 kids in the camp who Setton called "kid". So it was very useful.

For all of Garriel's knowledge, there were only three people that knew his name. The first of these three were his two best friends, Mikkal and Sabre.

Now, Mikkal was a Mimbrate Arend. If anyone knows Arends, they know that they tend to be couragous, strong, emotional, and unfortunately, not all together so bright. Mikkal tended to run into situations head first, not knowing what was going to happen, or rather what could happen. That gave him an exciting feel to be around. He would lead they way into misadventures on the plains, which could either end up in fortune or in disaster.

The one who got them out of those disasters was his other friend, Sabre. Sabre was a Drasnian, a spy by race. He was extremely quick witted, and although he was not as strong as Mikkal, he could oftentimes get them out of the jams that Mikkal got them in. He also usually knew the secrets and plans that the superiors were planning, and how to get around them.

The trio roamed around the plains during the day, usually passing their times with misadventures that Mikkal led them into. For example, there was this one time that Mikkal saw a wolf in the distance, and he picked up a rock from the ground, turning to his friends.

"My friends, it seems we have a foe within our grasp. Prithee we go and smite his head with this rock, perhaps the wolf shalt run and leave thy master's herd alone?"

Sabre drew in a long breath. He knew that Mikkal was too devoted right now to stop him. He glanced at Garriel for a second, then turned back to their friend, who was preparing to rush the wolf. "I don't think you should that, Mikkal."

The Arend turned before he went charging, to face his Drasnian friend. "Why doest thy say so?"

Sabre sighed for a second. It was sometimes hard to explain things to Arends, perhaps because they were so couragous that they thought nothing could hurt them. "Well, you only have a rock, but that wolf has some long fangs. It might not be wise."

Mikkal looked at Sabre throughfully for a couple of seconds. He then turned to Garriel. Garriel tended to act as a link between the two, always understanding both sides of the arguement, making him the one to always close it. "I think Sabre is right. It might be better for us to go get the others."

Mikkal had a look of disappointment in his emerald eyes. He dropped the rock from his hand, as he gave the wolf a long and steady glance. "You have not yet escaped mine grasp, foul beast. I shalt be back with others for thee."

Garriel and Sabre looked at each other, chuckling under their breath. Garriel then reached forth his right arm, and placed it on Mikkal's shoulder. "Alright, lets get the others."

That is basically how all the adventures were. Mikkal, being a Mimbrate Arend, always thought that fighting was the solution, that they should take care of the problem with their fists. Sabre always thought things through and usually got them out of the jams way before they started. Garriel was just there, along to have a good time, and to eventually take them home again.

Of course, being three friends, going around the plains making trouble wasn't the only thing they did. They acted like the normal kids their age, play fighting with each other, although it was usually Mikkal and Garriel who did that. Sabre like to go on the side with the other wily kids and wager. He was awefully good at that too.

There was only one other person in the world that knew of Garriels name, who was not one of his best friends.

Every Erastade, a old man came riding into town on a horse. He had a long white beard, and eyes that looked like they were thousands of years wise. He wore a dirty and ragged tunic, and boots that hardly ever matched. He looked like he was a vagabond, someone who only went around in search of food.

To his side, there rode a beautiful woman with golden tawny hair. Her face was perfect, without a flaw. She was by far the most beautiful woman that Garriel had ever seen. She always wore long gowns that seemed to glimmer with a light of their own. It always seemed that the woman was a countess, and that the man that rode with her was just a body guard, or perhaps an entertainer.

However, Garriel liked the man far more than the woman. The man with the long white beard would sit down every Erastade, and tell the people in his camp stories. They were legends and tales about times when the gods were still upon the planet, watching over their people not in just spirit, but in full body as well. He told them of the great Orb of Aldur, that shined with a blue radiance, and actually had a life of its own. He told them of how the Evil god Torak had snuck into the tower of Aldur and stole the orb from his brother. He told them the tale of the long war between Torak's people, the Agnaraks, as well as the people of the other gods. He told them of how Torak was the one who made the seas by raising the Orb against the land. And he finally told them of how the Orb had maimed the Evil god on the side of his face, and never let him touch the itself again.

He told them of the time when Belgarath the Sorceror took King Cherek and his four sons deep into the tower of Torak, to reclaim the orb from the now Mained Dragon God. Belgarath led them to the tower were they kept the Orb, and then Riva of Irongrip picked the Orb up from the pedestal on which it lay.

Finally, he told them of the most recent times, when the line of the Rivan King had been reborn with someone named Belgarion of Riva. How Belgarion had killed the maimed god with the sword of the Rivan King. He told him how Belgarath took Belgarion some others around the world after Geran, the heir to the Rivan throne, who was kidnapped from the castle. Finally, he told them how Belgarion had chose his succesor as Child of Light, and how the holy Seeress of Kell had chosen the Light as the path for the universe to follow.

Then the old storyteller would go to the side, and almost motion with Garriel to come and sit with him. He talked to Garriel, about his life, about his friends, and about how people were treating him. Of course, having the storyteller like him so much got older people like Setton jealous, and they frequently attacked Garriel verbally after the storyteller had left.

Even though the storyteller always told the same story every Erastade, it always seemed to be like a new one. Garriel always anticpated his arrival with joy, as talking with the storyteller and his wife (who would have known?) was one of the happiest things he did.


	2. Chapter 2

It was the day before Garriel's sixteenth birthday, and his two friends were planning to surprise him with the greatest present ever given to anyone in their camp.

"Mine friend," Mikkal said to Sabre in a thoughtful voice, "Doest thou percieve a Murgo hunt fit for this joyous occasion? I could head them off, as Garriel and thee sneak from behind and attack the foul people with surprise!"

Sabre gave him a long and steady glance. He lowered his head slightly, and shook it from side to side in reproval. "Mikkal, I don't think Garriel would like to die on the day before his birthday. How about we skip the Murgo hunt?"

Mikkal looked at his friend in shock. "Thou thinkest that the foul humans could slay Garriel? Tis a grave thought indeed." It was apparent that Mikkal did not know the actual danger that was involved in what he had requested.

Sabre tried to convince the Arend once again that attacking a group of Murgos was not the best idea in the world. "Mikkal," Sabre began, "Don't you think that the Murgos would be mounted. And wouldn't they have swords and armor with them. They also probably would have bows with them, so they would be able to shoot us from quite a distance away. Besides that, we aren't all that skilled."

Mikkal blinked suddenly. It appeared that he was acutally thinking for a reason around Sabre's logic. Of course, being an Mimbrate Arend, his couragousness gave him the answer right away. "Sabre, mine companion. Perhaps I, whom am larger and stronger then Garriel and thee, could draw the attention of the Murgo's from thee, mine friend. Thou and Garriel could move around a large tree, and attack the creatures from the opposite side."

Sabre in a long breath. It seemed that he was going to have to think of a way to scare Mikkal off. If he couldn't, Mikkal would probably go on the Murgo hunt anyway, with or without Garriel. "Well, I am sure Garriel would not like you dying as a present either. If you attract all of their attention, they will probably fill your chest full of arrows. They aren't all THAT bad marksmen, ya know. Then they'll just turn around and shoot off me and Garriel."

Mikkal scratched the top of his head. He was looking for a way to counter Sabre's comment. However, there was no way that he could find. Sabre had exhausted the possibilities of him intervening to avoid damage to any of his friends, and himself.

Sabre saw he needed the last blow. "And..", he said the feigned extravagance, "There might be a Gromlin priest with them, and you know what Gromlin priests do to people like me you and Garriel."

Mikkal looked hard at Sabre, drawing in his breath. Everyone knew what the Gromlin did as a religous practice. It was the rite of human sacrifice. Parents in Algaria, and perhaps in the entire world, frightened their children with the details of the actual sacrafice. What would happen is that the Gromlin would take the person to be sacraficed, or the slave if the person had one, and bend him backwards over the altar of the Dark God, Torak. Then, while two Gromlins held the person in place, while a third used a razor sharp knife to cut out the victims heart. He would then grasp it within his hand, and drop it on the fire which was burning near the altar. He would then announce to all the Agnaraks present in a loud voice, "Behold our offer to the Dragon God of Agnarak!" It was an aweful thing to do to a person, and it chilled Mikkal to the bone just thinking about it.

"So mine friend," Mikkal said to Sabre, "What doest though percieve as an amusing way to entertain Garriel?"

"Well..." Sabre began, as he rubbed his chin in thought. His eyes darted around as he thought of the perfect present. "Garriel does awefully like it when that storyteller comes around, no?"

Mikkal nodded his head dumbly.

"What if we could find a way to bring the storyteller to our camp for his birthday. I think that Garriel would find that as a great present."

"Thou are as clever as a fox, Sabre", Mikkal congratulated. "However, how wouldst thou bring the eld storyteller to the camp? Tis seven months until Erastade, and the storyteller only comes on that joyous holiday."

"I guess your right Mikkal, but, I was spying on the herdsmaster a couple days earlier.." Sabre began.

"Spying mine friend? Tis a foul occupation!"

"Oh be quiet Mikkal, and let me finish what I was saying!" Sabre reproved.

Mikkal quickly stopped talking.

"Anyway, I overheard that Hettar was going to be in that town that we are approaching." Sabre said, knowing that Mikkal would not understand his idea from just that.

"So?", Mikkal inquired of his Drasnian friend.

"Well, Garriel as never ridden quite so well," Sabre said, with a twinkle in his eye. "It is important for all Algars to ride horses, no? So why don't we just get him instruction from a Sha-Dar?"

"Thou art are brilliant Sabre!" Mikkal cried.

"I try." Sabre replied modestly. He then motioned over his shoulder for Mikkal to follow him back into the camp. He had a faint smile on his face, as they headed towards the area where the merchants were.

"Mikkal, don't say anything." Sabre requested of his friend critically. "I think I will be able to manage the sales on my own."

For the rest of the day, the two friends went walking around that sector, starting off with a small amount of money in which to buy things. Sabre, though, was a very good merchant, if one would like to call him one, and he quickly increased that amount by basically buying something from one person, and selling it to someone else for triple the price. Every time he entered, the merchant he was seeing had a large grin on his face, as they saw the small Drasnian child standing infront of them, making deals with them. Finally, he had to buy the food for the journey, and he heard that there was only one merchant that was selling beans nowadays. Quickly, they headed to the tent of Ambar of Kotu.

Ambar was a rat-faced man with an extremely long and pointed nose. By his appearences you could tell he was Drasnian, and he had a twinkle in his eyes as he looked at the oncoming customer. His fingers moved quickly in some intricate pattern, as he looked to a woman sitting on the side in question. Obviously, he did not know what to think of the adolesants walking into his tent.

The woman smiled, her dimples showing in their full extravagance to her husband. She motioned something back, and then placed one of her hands through his long hair, looking back at Sabre and Mikkal.

"Welcome to the tent of Ambar of Kotu!" He said, with a grin spread across his face. "Have you come to ask for apprenticeship?"

Sabre glanced at the merchant. He could tell that there was something different about this one, but he wasn't quite sure of it. "No, we have come to purchase some beans."

Ambar laughed with a little sort of laugh, as he gazed at the child standing infront of him. "It is 4 crowns per barrel. Just put down the amount of crowns on the table, and I will get you the amount you want."

Sabre's eyes then twinkled. It appeared that Ambar was not expecting to haggle with such a young buyer. He had already set down half price for what they were going for. "How about I pay you 1 crown for a barrel?"

Ambar stopped laughing for a moment, as he glanced at the young Drasnian. His eyes looked as if they didn't believe it. He then glanced to the side, nodding to his wife. He motioned something to her, and then looked back to the child. "1 crown for a barrel is a pretty low price, wouldn't you say?"

Sabre smirked a bit, looking back at Ambar. "I would bet that you bought those off the farmer for a quarter that price. Wouldn't what you gave him be lower?"

Ambar frowned, as he looked back at the child. "The farmer sells more of them then me, he would make a better profit."

"It was your choice to buy his beans, it wasn't his choice to sell them." Sabre began, as he looked straight into Ambar's face.

"What do you mean by that?" The merchant asked his fellow Drasnian.

"Well, from what I read," Sabre explained to the obviously non-knowing merchant, "There is only one type of land that can grow beans. Everything else there just won't grow as well. So, the farmer could only grow beans, but it was your idea to go into selling beans. If you wanted a better profit, maybe you should have picked a better item."

The woman on Ambar's right began to chuckled.

"Velvet!", Ambar almost cried in anguish, "Why is it that you find this so funny?"

The woman looked at Ambar innocently, smiling as she let those dimples of her bore directly towards his face. "Oh, nothing dear."

Ambar looked crushed for a second. He then turned back to Sabre with a twinkle in his eye. "I won't sell the beans for such a low price."

"Alright then." Sabre motioned to Mikkal, pointing at the door. "I guess I'll go buy the beans from another merchant."

Ambar chuckled, as he lookd up to Sabre. "I am the only merchant that sells beans. There aren't any others in Algaria."

"Really?", Sabre asked, "I met one about a week ago. He was a Nadrak, and he said that he and his partner were the only ones to sell beans in the whole world. He was a bit drunk at the time, so spying on him wasn't such a hard thing to do."

"Spying is an ill thing to do," Ambar began to protest, his face suddenly gone pale.

Sabre laughed a short laugh, and then bowed with extravagant curtesy. "I am so pleased that the greatest of all spies thinks of his profession as so."

Ambar looked at the kid, his eyes unbelieving. Sabre turned to Ambar, and tossed 2 Tolnedran crowns on the table which was infront of him. "It was fun arguing with the great Prince Kheldar of Drasnia."

Suddenly, his wife began to laugh. Ambar turned a deep red, looking over to the boy. He then turned to his wife.

The blond just kept laughing, keeping her hand to her mouth as she did so. "Silk, it appears that you lost." She smiled evily, casting all her dimples in his direction. "And to a child."

Prince Kheldar turned to look at the Drasnian child, now smiling slightly. "It appears that I have. Boy, what is you name? And the name of your companion."

"My name is Sabre, you highness." Sabre replied him deep with feigned respect. It was something Drasnians did to their monarchs and to their superiors.

"He's making fun of me Velvet", Ambar said flatly.

"I know Silk."

"And mine name," Mikkal said, surprising both Ambar and his wife with his Mimbrate tongue, "Is Mikkal." He bowed deeply to the couple. "I greet ye to our unsightly camp. Thou art welcome here as much as ye would wish to come."

"Nope, you are wrong there, friend." Ambar chuckled slightly in an undertone, looking at the two boy's bewildered faces. "I am not welcome anywhere. It is part of my job description."

"Noble merchant, thou art welcome to all lands where goods may be sold. How could it be that thou art not welcome in all lands?" Mikkal asked the unlikely Prince. Sabre's eyes had a look of understanding in them, as he turned to his friend.

"Mikkal," he began, slowly so that the Arend would comprehend his answer, "Prince Kheldar, who is the merchant who just lost a lot of money on those beans, is an internationally reknowned spy, thief, cheat, and gambler."

Prince Kheldar winced slightly, as the child reminded him that he had lost a huge amount on the beans. Sabre noticed the wincing, and used it in full advantage to make fun of the prince again.

"Sire, did I get all the information right? You seem a bit unnerved."

Velvet laughed, looking at the now red Prince Kheldar. She noticed the child's jeer, and laughed a bit more.Kheldar's face turned redder. That is when she decided it was time to join in on the fun."Come on, dear, don't get so upset. He is only a child. How were you supposed to know he outwit you?"

Kheldar's face turned the most unusual colors at that instant, as he got up quickly. "I think I need a walk", he said meekly. He then turned to the entrance of the tent and fled.

"Excuse my husband, he thinks he is invinsible."

"He is", confirmed Sabre thoughtfully. "The only thing is, that he did not expect me to be so good. I am sure he could have beat me if he was prepared."

Velvet smiled and nodded. "So, what do young adults like you need beans for."

Mikkal jumped up quickly to answer her question. Arends tended to get jumpy around women. "Mine lady, mine friend and myself were going to be journeying with our companion to find Hettar, son of King Cho-Hag. Could thee be as too kind to tell us where he might be staying."

"Mikkal, how would she know where Hettar would be? Plus I already.."

Velvet cut Sabre off to the point. "Of course I know. He is about 2 leagues north of this encampment with a herd of horses. If you would like, me and Silk could accompany you to him. We are headed in that direction anyway."

"Thou knowest the Sha-Dar?" Mikkal asked, looking with wonderment at the woman.

Velvet laughed a quick laugh, nodding her head quickly. "Of course I do."

"Then we should probably get our friend here", Sabre said quickly, cutting right to the point of the matter, "So we can leave as soon as you are ready."

"Good idea", Velvet agreed, "We'll have the supplies ready."

"Will, perchance, the Prince Kheldar be still angry as he is now?" Mikkal asked carefully.

"Don't worry about that," Velvet began, laughing a little wicked laugh. "I'll take care of Silk."

The two friends departed from the tent, and went off through the camp grounds to find their friend. It took them about a half of an hour until they found him, asleep in their tent with clothes all over the floor. He was wearing his normal day tunic, so it was apparent that he was having a day dream of some sort. Mikkal slowly walked up to him, and rubbed him awake.

"Come mine friend, we are going on a journey."

Garriel looked up, shaking his head clear of the fog that had just cluttered it. He nodded quickly to his friends, as he literally jumped out of bed. After a quick stretch of his arms, he was ready to go off and hear the details of today's journey.

Sabre explained to him everything that just occured, in great length. He told him of how they had gone into the merchant's sector, and met the Prince and his wife. He told smugly him how he himself had outwitted Kheldar, and got them beans for their trip. He ended it by telling him how they were going to go with Prince Kheldar and his wife to find Hettar himself, so Garriel could get some aid in riding.

They arrived at the spot where the tent was, however, the fabric dwelling was now wrapped up in bags, and put on a couple of mules for transport. Kheldar was not dressed in his beautiful robes anymore, rather he wore a couple of riding clothes, with probably a normal tunic under them. His wife, Velvet, on the other hand, looked far more extravagant.

"So this is your friend?" Velvet inquired, looking at Garriel.

"He looks awefully familliar," started Kheldar, "I just can't place where I saw him before. Might I ask you for your name?"

"My name is Garriel," he replied, straightening himself up to look important. He glanced to his sides to his friends, who were not copying his actions, and let his shoulders drop again.

"Garriel is it?" Kheldar said, rubbing the bottom of his chin. He looked hard at Garriel, as if something did not make much sense. "Well, you can call me Silk, all of my friends do."

"How many of those would you have, Kheldar?" Velvet asked her husband curiously.

"About three. I don't think I should include you though." Silk replied, smirking some at his wife.

"And why is that?" Velvet said, her voice getting harder.

"Well, I suppose wifes aren't friends," Silk said, his voice getting a little bit more sure.

"And why not?" Velvet asked, her eyes slowly becoming ice cold.

"Because that is just the way the world is made." Silk said, chuckling to himself. "One for your side," Garriel added.

"You're definately an Alorn," Silk replied. He then thought for a moment. "Do you think you would like to join me for some ale tonight?"

"Men!" Velvet cried.

Silk laughed for a couple of seconds. He then looked out to the plains, as he walked to his mule. "Well, shall we leave. Or would you rather sit around here all day making jokes?


	3. Chapter 3

The party of five slowly trodded along the grasslands of Algaria. Garriel looked behind him every once and a while, trying to see just how far they had gone. He had always known that the grasslands were huge, people in his camp talked about it all the time. However, he had never seen it this way before. Upon horseback, trying to get somewhere, the grasslands were like an emerald sea, stretching on from horizon to horizon. It was clear to him now why Algar the Fleet-foot needed horses here. There would not, could not, be anyway to get across this ocean without them.

He and his friends, of course, had fallen in with slightly new companions. With every mile they walked, Garriel began to learn more and more about the short, weasel-faced Prince Kheldar, who incidentally, prefered to be called by his nickname, Silk. Silk was a Drasnian spy, the best infact. Silk regaled them all with stories of his exploits. His eyes seemed to dance as he told them of the all the secrets he'd learned, and all the people he had duped. What more, when he laughed, it was so contagious, everyone laughed along with him.

Garriel could not really figure out his wife's official title. As far as he knew, her name was Liselle, but he was not sure if she had a Princess in there somewhere. He found it far easier to just call her Velvet. She sat there, quiet at times, laughing a soft laugh when Silk said something. She was obviously madly in love with him for a long time, and knew far more things about him then Garriel ever would.

Silk was busy as they walked, telling about the time he had actually journyed with Belgarion the Godslayer. He was at the point where he, Belgarath, and Belgarion had snuck out of the castle at Riva, getting on their way so Belgarion could fight, Torak, the maimed Dragon God.

"So," Silk said with a certain soft quality that added a certain unpredictability to the story, "me, Belgarion and Belgarath slowly crept out of Riva. Belgarion had left a note for Polgara, explaining that they were leaving. It wouldn't have been to much use anyway because later.."

"Silk," Velvet began in a disapproving manner. "Don't get ahead in the story. You are going to ruin some of the good parts."

Silk chuckled. "Alright Velvet. Let me get gack to the story. We slowly crept out of the Citadel in the black sheet of the night. I always did enjoy sneaking around in the dark, and Belgarath had picked a good night to sneak out because there was not even a tiniest slither of the moon out. It was pitch black outside. We took a boat off the island.."

"Ship." Velvet corrected her husband absently.

"Boat. Ship. Whats the difference? They both float, don't they? Anyway, Belgarath wanted to get away from the Isle of the Winds as quickly as possible. He was right to do so, Polgara sent whole regiments to search for us. I wonder how badly she took it."

"I can tell you that." Velvet had an amused look on her face. "Would you like to hear?"

"Please Velvet, tell our friends of the way Polgara took it", Silk said with a a grin upon his weasel face. "Just, before you start, did she turn anyone in to radishes?"

"No Silk. I don't think she ever has."

"How about wheat. She could use them to make that gruel Eriond loved so much." Silk seemed to say that sarcastically.

"Silk, if you don't stop, we are going to have gruel for dinner tonight."

Silk stopped talking immediatly.

"Anyway," Velvet said, smiling to the three boys, "Polgara was furious when she read Garion's note. Oh, Garion is Belgarion by the way. Anyway, she started blasting things with sorcery. I was at the other side of the castle at the time, and I could hear it from all the way there."

Garriel thought about that concept for a second. He had always heard stories about sorcery, however, he thought that it was just some kind of trick. Maybe some illusion before the eyes, something like Setton used to do with that fire. Of course he knew that Belgarath and Polgara would have to be many times better then Setton was.

Velvet continued to talk about Polgara's anger, and how people in the city cowered before her while she blasted things into rubble. However, now the sun had drawn in his attention. Walking through the plains with Velvet's voice in the background, he began to sit in wonder of how the sun could just stay up there in the sky. Obviously, it had to be very big. Only something very big could actually burn that long. But, if it was so big, and it was burning, why was the day so cool? And why did it take up so little space in the sky? All these questions boggled his mind, so he stopped asking them. However, every time he glanced upwards, he began to fathom distances he could not even begin to comprehend.

Tearing his head from the sky, he glanced down at the ground. The only thing there was earth and grass. However, then he began to wonder about the earth and its components. What was the universe anyway? Did it have a life of its own?

In his camp he had gone to school like all the other boys his age. They had an Alorn tutor, who taught them about math, histoy and science. He had learned in science class that in living things, several smaller compontents worked together in order for the whole to process. According to that logic, the planet he was on, and the universe itself was living, but how could that be? The universe didn't have a mind like he or his friends had. It didn't have skin or hair, and it didn't eat. Even plants ate. How could the universe live? And if it was living, what was his purpose in it?

"Stop asking so many questions" A voice in his mind said irritably "Wait a little bit. The answers will come to you in time."

"Hello?" Garriel tried to call back to the voice, but it would not answer him. Oh, that was just perfect. Not only was he not able to get any rest because of his constant inquiry, but now he was hearing voices. What else could go wrong?

Sabre and Mikkal rode to the sides of Garriel. Mikkal seemed to just be riding easily, not caring all that much to what was going on around him. He was deep into Velvet's story. It seemed she had began to continue into Silk's story, and it was a very emotional story at that. Also, Mikkal happened to be a very emotional sort of person. He laughed at the good points, and cried at the bad ones. He appeared to be having a great tiem.

Sabre, on the other hand, was deep in thought. It seemed that something was bothering him greatly. Garriel was about to ask him what was wrong, but Silk had beat him to it. It seemed that Silk cared a little bit more about his fellow Drasnian then the other two boys.

"Sabre," Silk began, "What is troubling you? It looks like you have a question."

"Yeah, you have to confirm something for me." Sabre usually didn't ask question about people, but it appeared that he was more comfortable around Silk. Garriel didn't understand why, from what he had heard of Silk, and what he had experienced already that day, he wasn't the best person to consult when you had a problem.

"Its about you and Liselle's names."

"What about our names?"

"Well," Sabre said, "I mean, it is sort of confusing. How didn't you know that Liselle was after you, from the very beginning, I mean. She had given herself the nickname Velvet. That would probably tell you she had something in mind. I mean, Silk and Velvet? Didn't that sound suspisious to you."

Velvet was obviously listening in, because she stopped her story with a laugh. Silk visably turned red, as he looked at his wife helplessly. "I guess I was too mixed up with the buisness at the time to notice."

Sabre smiled. It seemed that it had been bothering him for a while. However, his face then turned a little bit disappointed. Obviously, Prince Kheldar was a hero to him, someone that he wanted to be exactly like, and as it looked to him, Silk was missing something Sabre thought he had.

"Alright everyone, we are stopped to have some lunch." Velvet said, with a tone that just could not be ignored. "So what would you all like?"

Velvet turned out to be a great cook. She gave all credit to Polgara. Silk disagreed, however.

"You are by far a better cook then Polgara, Velvet", Silk said with a sincere tone.

"Why, Kheldar, what a nice thing for you to say." Velvet said, with girlish glee in her voice. He smiled slightly to Silk, her eyes glimmering with a certain charm.

"Just make sure that you never cook gruel. If you can stay away from that, I don't think I will ever go out to a tavern again." Silk said, getting up from the ground. Slowly, he stumbled through the supplies they had brought, until he came upon a wooden barrel. As he opened it, Garriel saw its contents burst through onto the ground below. It was an ale keg.

"Silk, dear." Velvet began, "Don't you think it is a litle bit early to start drinking?"

"I'll ask Barak the next time I see him." Silk said, placing a mug of the drink to his lips. Quickly he drank the ale, and whiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Velvet rolled her eyes upwards, shaking her head slightly.

Silk turned to his wife and his three new friends. "Lets get going. I don't want to sit out here all day and eat. We have a town to get to, and I have goods to sell."

"Does money mean all that much do you?" Garriel asked simply, as he began to get up from ground. The three Drasnians turned to him quickly, a twinkle in their eyes. "I guess so...", Garriel concluded.

The five once again began to move at a steady pace across the plains of Algaria. The sun moved above them, from the east to the west, as it slowly took its leave from the grounds which surrounded them all. It seemed that the day was passing, and nightfall would soon be upon them.

The three had always heard stories of what happened to unprotected people during the night. Even though Torak was dead, the Murgos still held grudges against the Alorns. They would come out at night to rob and kill any people that might be in the plains. The three talked nervously about the stories, as night came closer and closer.

Finally, Garriel turned to Silk to ask him about it. "Silk, do Murgos really come out at night here, trying to kill people?"

Silk turned to him, with an evil chuckle. "All the time. Did you hear about how they bring you to a Gromlin priest and sacrafice you?"

The three of them lurched back on their horses. It they were not mounted, they might have turned an fled.

"Did you here that they actually chain you before the altar first, so you can watch other people die?" Silk said, clawing his hand out to the three boys.

"Oh, stop scaring them Silk. You know as well as I do that the Murgos tend to stay where they are." Velvet said.

"You might not believe me now, but just wait until the Murgos come out." Silk cautioned, a long smirk on his face.

"Silk!" Velvet cried out. Silk collapsed into laughed, almost falling off his cart in the process. Sudddenly, the three boys laughed at their fears of the dreaded Murgos, as they all stopped.

"I guess we can stop here for the night", Velvet said. She hopped off the cart, and began to look around.

"Perchance, mine lady," Mikkal started, in a way that always meant that he was about to offer to do something, which usually meant he was gong to drag his friends along with it. "Couldst mine friends and myself go out among the plains in search of minute amounts of firewood? Thou might need it for a cooking flame?"

"Why Mikkal, that would be must generous of you." Velvet smiled at the young Arend. Mikkal beamed, and quickly dragged his friends out into the field to look for some bushes that might give them the firewood that he offered Velvet. Sabre and Garriel were obviously not too happy about it, but Mikkal was stronger then the both of them.

Chopping wood, even thin branches like a bush had, was decently hard work, and it took a while for the three of them to find enough of it to have the fire burn all night. The two friends took it lightly, as they knew that this is what Mikkal was like. They came back about an hour later, and somehow, there was already a fire burning. Velvet had been cooking food for the past half an hour, and it was almost done. Silk seemed to have a mourning look upon his face, while Velvet on the other hand, had a look of pure satisfaction.

Garriel looked at Silk, scratching the back of his head. Unfortunately, he could not hold all of the wood in just one hand, and it all came tumbling to the floor. His two friends motioned for him to pick it up, but he ignored them. "What is wrong, Silk?"

Silk shuddered, as he looked gravely at the three boys. "I can't believe she would do something so horrible?"

Now Sabre looked a little bit upset. He and Garriel looked at each other. "What did she do?" Garriel asked.

"Something so horrible, I can't even mention it." Silk replied, shaking his head.

"What did she do?" Sabre said, his voice a little bit harder then Garriels was.

Silk just stared at him and shook his head quickly. By now Mikkal had join in on staring at Silk. "Was has thine wife done, my lord?"

Silk sighed, as he hung his head downcast. "She made gruel for dinner…" Sabre burst out in laughter. He fell to the ground, dropping his own wood, as he rolled on the ground almost in tears.

"That is it?" Garriel asked incredulously. "That is the terrible thing that Velvet did? I don't believe you Silk!"

Silk looked at Garriel sheepishly, as he too began to laugh. "You're right. It really doesn't matter. What does matter though, is if you are going to join me for a drink tonight? I think I would enjoy a long drink with a couple of friends."

They all laughed at his comment. After they finished eating, the five friends pitched their tents and began a good night's rest.


	4. Chapter 4

Garriel awoke the next morning, finding that his two friends were still sleeping. Carefully, he lifted himself off the ground, and dressed. Outside, Velvet sat over the fire, cooking some bacon for their breakfast. The warm smell of the meat filled the air around the fire, and Garriel unknowingly took a couple of steps in that direction.

"I see you are up." Velvet said. "What took you so long? It is 2 hours after sunrise." Garriel blinked a couple of times in response to the question.

"Exactly. It is two hours after sunrise. I don't think I ever woke up this early." He replied to the blond haired Drasnian. "Maybe it has to do with your being spies and all."

Velvet shrugged her shoulders. "Perhaps."

"I don't see Silk around. Did he go to get something?" Garriel asked curiously.

"Silk oftentimes wakes up in the morning, to go look around for merchants and the like. He likes to have an idea who is around us."

"That sounds like something he would do.."

"You have no idea." Velvet said with a laugh.Garriel came to expect that he would never fully understand the Drasnians, nor did he wish to. They seemed to be a complicated sort of nation, and Garriel liked straight ideas. Although, once and a while, the philosophical thought did consume him.

"Do you want to start eating without the others?" Velvet inquired. "I don't think your friends are going to be up soon, and Silk isn't due back for a while."

Garriel thought about that possibilty for a second. He took a long hard look at the meat sizzling over the open fire, and licked his lips. It did look extremely tasty.

"Come and eat. I am sure the others won't care all that much." Velvet said with a cheerful laugh. Although Garriel did not know it, Velvet could read his mind right through the expressions of his face, as it he had been chanting it aloud.

So they ate, and one by one, their companions began to get out of bed, quickly joining them for the meal that the Drasnian woman had cooked for them. The last one to come was Silk, and it looked like he had been running from something. He stopped by the food, trying to catch his breath as he pointed behind him, his finger quivering slightly.

"What is it, dear? Maybe some food would help calm your nerves." Velvet inquired of her trembling husband, however, her fingers seemed to say something else.

"Murgos." Silk said quickly, not even bothering to flick something back at his wife. "About 30 of them, and they are only about 1 league east of here."

"Did they see you?", Sabre asked the trembling spy.

"I think so. At least, they were shooting at me." Silk said, as he back in the eastern direction. "I am not sure if they saw in which direction I went though. We are going to have to make a run north. Hopefully, we will be able to find Hettar in time. I don't think any Murgo would be within 10 leagues of Hettar, at least any live Murgo."

"What about our stuff? Are we going to have to leave it here." Garriel asked thoughtfully. His new companions were, after all, merchants of some sort. Leaving their supplies and items behind would mean that they would make no profit.

Silk seemed to see this as well, as he looked longingly at the merchandise they had in their wagons. Velvet, however, had a more firm grip on what was going on. "No Silk, we can't bring the stuff. There just simply isn't enough time."

"Perhaps," Mikkal began, speaking up for the first time this morning, "I couldst hold the foul creatures off for a day or two. Prince Kheldar and thee could collect thy belongings, and we could meet again after I have vanquished this evil threat."

"Don't do that Mikkal!" Sabre said sharply. Usually none of them would speak to Mikkal like that, but now was not the time for some of his Arend hysterics. "We have to go, and there is no time for you to fight any Murgos."

Mikkal looked visably upset from that remark. It probably wasn't the tone of it though. While the three friends talked amoungst themselves, Velvet quickly began to pack some supplies and Silk just leaned back against one of the horses, thinking.

"Alright, it is time to get out of here." Velvet said with a hint of finality in her tone. None of the boys would object to that kind of authority.

"Hold on a second, Velvet." Silk said. He then quickly went into the tents, and pulled out a couple of torches, some water, and the bones of last night's meal.

"What are you doing, Silk?" Velvet asked, as the boys began to mount. Silk just smiled back, as he began to douse the area around their tents in water.

"I do believe he is about to do something clever…" Sabre said, a smile coming across his face. Obviously, he had been expecting Silk to do something.

"What doest thou think Prince Kheldar is going to perform?" Mikkal asked his Drasnian friend.

"We'll just have to wait and see." Sabre said, the smile across his face broadening.

Garriel, however, had been taking more of a notice to the horizon, and he had begun to notice that there was smoke rising, sort of like the smoke that the Gromlins brought around on torches, in case they needed to sacrifice someone. "I think they're coming!"

Silk had spread the bones across the ground around the tent, and then taken the torch in his right hand. He mounted his horse, and nodded to the others. He then kicked the sides of his horse's ribs, chucking the torch over and at the tents. His horse galloped away, and the other's followed him quickly. As they rode away, the three Drasnians were laughing amoungst themselves. Garriel and Mikkal looked at each other with a confused expression.

"What is so funny?" Garriel asked. Why must Drasnians be so strange?

"Well.." Silk began, motioning for the other two to stop their hysterics, "I just left those Murgos a bit of a surprise."

Sabre jumped in at that point, filling in the blank that the Drasnian spy had left. "The Murgos are going to think that those bones were our's, Garriel. They are going to think that we burned down with the tents that Silk set on fire."

"What if it doesn't work?" Garriel asked thoughtfully.

"Garriel," Velvet sweetly answered, "Murgos aren't smart enough to realized what we have done."

They rode on for several leagues, the three Drasnians and Mikkal talking amoungst themselves about the Murgos. It appeared that the three Drasnians were having a fight with the Arend on whether they should have actually stayed and battled the Murgos or not. Garriel, however, rode behind the four, staring up into the sky as he thought to himself.

"I was waiting for a time when I could actually talk to you.", that dry voice in the back of his mind said to him.

"Am I going mad?" Garriel thought. He had always heard that when people start hearing "voices", it is a sign of insanity creeping in upon their minds.

"No, you are not going mad." The voice answered him irritably.

"Then if you are real, who are you?" Garriel asked silently.

"The anwer will frighten you, so I won't bother telling you. I just have to warn you that you are never going to be going back to your village for a long while. You have a great road infront of you, and to your old herd is not one of its destinations."

"Is that all?"

"No." The dry voice in his mind replied. "When you see Hettar, ask him where you can find that storyteller that you like so much. It is important that you meet up with him."

"Why? Why do I have to meet up with him?"

The voice was gone.

They stopped riding after several hours, when Velvet had decided that they were far enough from the Murgos to be safe. They tied their horses to a nearby tree, and began to set up camp. It was the same as any other time, the three boys went out to find firewood, Silk went out to find some sort of wild game, and Velvet began to tend to the more homely matters, like setting out a place for the fire, and preparing to cook.

Dinner that night was a quick stew that Velvet managed to make from the bird that Silk brought back, as well as some random herbs, spices and vegetables. Even though it was made with just rough ingrediants on the spot, Garriel found it to be most appetizing.

After they had finished eating and cleaning their plates, the three boys went to pitch their tent, then to go to sleep. Sabre talked constantly about the adventure they had had that day, while Mikkal whined about missing a good fight. Garriel just stayed silent, thinking about that strange visit the voice had made.

Mikkal was the first one to notice that there was something wrong, which was probably because he was an Arend. Arends tended to be an emotional sort of race.

"Mine friend," he began, "Is it possible that there is something troubling thee?"

Garriel sighed softly, as he turned to look at his two friends. He could be honest with them, and they just might believe him. "I have this strange feeling that we are not going to be going back to the herd for a long time."

Now even Sabre began to notice the melancholy attitude of his companion. "Who gave you that idea, Garriel?"

On second thought, maybe it was not best to tell his two friends about the voice in his mind. If it really wanted them to know, it would have told him so. So instead of truthfully answering there, he just shook his head and then shrugged his shoulders. "I dunno, it was just a thought that came to me while we were riding back."

"Don't worry about it." Sabre said, trying to comfort his downhearted friend. "I am sure everything will work out for the best." Garriel just sighed.

"If the foul creatures are what cause thee woe, mine friend, I shalt go back and vanquish them with mine own sword!" Mikkal said, in an effort to cheer up his companion. However, Garriel thought, he seemed to have a one track mind, which could not get off the notion of fighting a group of Murgo warriors.

"It is alright, Mikkal. You really do not have to do that."

"Lets just pitch the tent, Garriel", Sabre suggested, "You will feel much better in the morning."

Garriel nodded to his friend. It was comforting to have his friends with him. So the three quickly pitched their tent, and Garriel and Sabre got ready go get some sleep. Mikkal, on the other hand, had other plans for the night.

"I shalt sit outside and guard thee from the Murgo fiends." Mikkal said with a confident tone of voice.

"Whatever makes you happy, Mikkal." Sabre said shortly. It seemed that the Drasnian did not want to get involved in a long argument on the different reasons that Mikkal should not be standing outside all not to guard them. "I am going to sleep, Garriel. See you in the morning."

"G'night." Garriel replied, as he walked off to find Silk and Velvet. They were sitting by the fire, talking quietly to themselves. Garriel didn't know whether he should bother them at this point, but Silk had already noticed him out of the corner of his eye.

"Whats wrong Garriel?" He said, turning his full attention to the boy. Velvet also turned around, so she could face him.

"Do you think that we are going to ever go back to the herd?" Although the voice in his mind had told him otherwise, he obviously needed some comfirmation of that fact.

"It is possible Garriel, but I don't see why it really matters." Velvet replied dearly. How could he tell them about the dry voice?

"No reason at all. Just curious."

"Go to bed, Garriel." Silk suggested. "You will feel better in the morning." Now where did he hear that before?

"Alright. Good night."

"Good night Garriel" Velvet called after him. Garriel turned, and headed back towards his tent for a long night's rest.

Silk watch Garriel slowly ease off into the tent for the night. Then, he let out a long sigh, staring up into the skyt aimlessly.

"Whats wrong, dear?" Velvet asked of her husband.

Silk let out another sigh, and dropped his eyes to face Velvet's. "I have a feeling like I have done this before."

Velvet stared into her husband's eyes, the overwhelming concern apparent within those oculars of hers. He lifted out her hand and gently patted her husbands right cheek. "Don't worry dear, I am sure it will pass."

Silk's eyes turned downcast, staring at the grassy earth below him. He shook his head slowly, lifting his eyes again to face his wife. "I hope you're right, Velvet. I hope you're right."

Garriel was abruply awoken in the middle of the night by the sound of steel crashing against steel. There obviously was a fight going on outside, and it was obviously serious. Throwing his covers off of his body, he noticed that Sabre had already gotten out of bed, probably to see what was going on. Quickly, Garriel dressed, picked up a hunting knife which he had kept with his clothing, and walked through the open flaps of the tent.

Outside, he saw Silk, Sabre and Velvet all tied to a tree in a thick, brown rope, squirming in an attempt to get themselves free. Not only were they tied up, but they were gagged as well, and they could not warn Garriel about their own mistake.

Quickly, Garriel ran up to cut his friends loose from the tree, when all of a sudden, five Murgo warriors surrounded him, with sword's drawn. One of them walked up to Garriel menacingly, and pointed over to the tree where his friends were tied.

Garriel immediately understood. He and his friends had just been taken prisoner by the Murgos, and there was nothing that any of them could do about it. The Murgo who had shown where Garriel should go rapped Garriel's knife from his hand with the edge of his sword. The other four pushed Garriel against the tree trunk, and bound him with his friends. They all nodded to each other, and they cut the gags off his friends mouths.

As soon as Silk could talk, he immediately bellowed out a question at the Murgos. "Why are you doing this!"

The Murgo who had rapped Garriels sword away laughed shortly, and then raised his sword to the tip of Silk's brow. "We're doing it, and that is all. I don't think you are in a position to ask us for our reasons." The Murgo spoke with a strange accent, sort of ugly, Garriel thought.

The other four Murgos laughed out in response to their companion's answer to the Drasnian's inquiry. Then, they went searching through the friends' belongings, obviously in search of money, or something of value.

"I thought the war between Alorns and Angaraks was over." Sabre said dubiously.

The Murgo spat at Sabre's feet, and then wiped his mouth clean. "The war between Alorns and Angaraks will never be over. We can never forgive the Godslayer for slaining our God, Kal Torak, the Dragon God. As long as there are Alorns and Angarak's alive, the war will go on."

"Surely you know that there is another Angarak God." Velvet said, still struggling against the hold of the ropes.

"Such talk is blasphemy to the memory of the great and almighty Torak!" the Murgo hissed at the golden haired spy, "And should another word like that come from your mouth, I will make sure that your death will be long and lingering!"

"I don't understand it." Garriel said simply, "I thought that Torak was supposed to be a mistake, spawned by the splitting of prophecies."

"One more word, and I will cut off your tongue, Rivan child!" the Murgo screamed at Garriel, his eyes full of hate. "We Angaraks hate your race the most of all the Alorns! If it wasn't for your king, our God would have been the ruler of the entire world!"

Garriel suddenly drew back. It wasn't the threat of the Murgo that had frightened him, rather the misconception that either he, or the Murgo, had had. Garriel had grown up in Algaria, his friends lived in Algaria, and he lived the life of an Algar. However, this Murgo warrior had just called him a Rivan. Garriel thought about that slowly, trying to let it process within the depths of his mind.

"Scared, Alorn scum?" the Murgo said with a certain amount of contempt, "You should be, you should be."

One of the Murgos that had been searching for money, suddenly cried in joy, as he seemingly found the purse that Silk had been carrying. The others came over to him, and grasped him in an embrace that seemed to last for hours. Silk's face was twisted in torment, at the prospect of loosing all the money he had earned thoughout his travels in Algaria.

The head Murgo saw Silk and sneered. He called out to his fellows in a disgusting sounding tougue, and the other Murgos, reacting by their leader's call, began to fling the coins they found from one person to the next, brandishing the goods before their previous owner. Silked winced.

The Murgos laughed yet another time.

"What do you think they are going to do with us?" Sabre asked Silk, his voice quavering in fright.

"Hopefully, they'll just kill us." Silk said in all due seriousness. Garriel was taken a back by the comment.

"Just kill us!" He asked Silk incredulously.

Silk sighed, and then nodded to him.

"There much worse things then being killed, Garriel." Velvet explained, her voice full of sorrow. "They could always give us to a Gromlin priest, and let him sacrafice us on the altar of Torak."

The head Murgo, as if reacting by the name, Torak, turned and glared at the four. He then slowly walked up to Velvet, and slapped her smartly across the mouth. "You watch your tongue", he seemed to say with disgusting amusment. Everything he was putting them through, all the suffering that could and might come, was all a game to his Murgo.

Off in the distance, a brass horn sounded. It was faint, but it was obviously there.

The Murgo's continued to dance and flaunt their goods infront of the Drasnians. They laughed, as they sliced some other things useless to them, into shreds.

The brass horn sounded again. It was slightly louder this time.

The Murgos seemed to be too occupied in their praise to "Kal" Torak. They did not even notice the sound of the horn.

The brass horn sounded loudly this time, and it caught the head guard's attention. He quickly screamed something to his fellows, but it was too late.

A lance-toting Arend upon a Algarian steed darted from the bushes, spearing three of the Murgos at once. There was a slight crunching sound as the edge of the spear wripped through their chests, and took the life from their bodies. His friends winced at the all the blood and gore, but

It was Mikkal.

The fight was short and ugly. The Murgos were not ready for a mounted warrior to attack them, and they were either run through or trampled in less than five minutes. His friends winced at the all the blood and gore, but they were still elated to see the Arend.

After the leader fell dead, with a lance stuck in between his eyes, Mikkal dismounted and untied his friends. Garriel rubbed his wrists, due to the markings that the ropes had made upon his skin after he had been untied.

"Thanks Mikkal" He said shortly to his Mimbrate friend.

"Twas mine pleasure, Garriel. Those loathsome creatures will never plague the encompassing landscapes with their torment again." Mikkal said in a triumphant manner. Silk, on the other hand, looked around at all his shredded belongs in pale disgust.

"Did you have to take so long?" He said to the Arend.


	5. Chapter 5

Belgarion, King of the Isle of the Winds, Godslayer, Ruler of the Western Sea, Overlord of the West and previous Child of Light sat at the Alorn Council, listening to the droning voices of the nobles who lived in Algaria. It was at Cho-Hag's place this year, and he always looked forward to these gatherings, well, some parts of them anyway. Back when the world was in peril from the Dark Prophecy, Garion had been the center of everyone's attention, and there was always something to talk about. Even after he had slain Torak, there was still the Bear Cult, the Angaraks, and later, as he learned, the actual Dark Prophecies to deal with. That, of course, had all come suddenly to a stop after Cyrandis had chosen Light over Dark, and he, Aheg, Varana and Zakath had devised a peace treaty for the entire world to follow. Times were boring, and that was good, he supposed. But, a man always needed a bit of an adventure to spice up life, didn't he?

This particular noble was talking about how the Murgos had cheated him profusely on a horse he was trying to sell. Most of these speeches were based on something of that like, and they were almost all identical. Garion just sat and let Cho-Hag and the others handle it. Finally, after the last complaint was made, they could finally breath freely, and talk amoungst themselves.

"So, Garion", Aheg bellowed out towards the Rivan Monarch. "How is life on Riva?" Aheg was the King of the Chereks, and from his mere appearance there was no question to his prowess in battle. The man was huge, with a long black beard descending from his chin. Although he was getting older, which was natural Garion supposed, he was still as loud as ever.

"Everythings alright, Aheg." Garion answered the Cherek timidly. "A few scuffles, but those things are common."

"Indeed they are," Aheg agreed. "I had a couple of those myself, unfortunately, I wasn't able to get involved with them personally. A good fight so hard to find, now that the Angaraks are on OUR side. They always gave me something to do…" That was when he turned to the corner of the room where Zakath, Urgit, Dorsta and Gethell were seated. "No offense to you four of course."

"None taken, my friend, none taken." King Urgit of the Murgos replied, his nose twitching slightly. Gaion had met Urgit on his travels, the man was unlike any other he had ever met, save Prince Kheldar of Drasnia. Of course, it made sense that the two were alike, they were brothers after all.

"I could almost agree with you on that, however." Zakath added pleasantly. Previously King of the Malloreans, he was now better known as the Overlord of the Angaraks. However, Garion had left some mark on him after their travels together, so he let the other kings keep there positions. The nation of Angarak, after all, was a very numerous nation. "At least when we were at war with the Murgos, I could want to get Urgit's head mounted somewhere on my wall. Of course times have changed, and I have met a few people."

"Methinks thine wife hast changed thee, Zakath." King Krodullin of the Arends said affirmatively. Being a Mimbrate Arend by racial backgrounds, he always spoke in high-style, which was a language that consisted of mainly "thees", "thous", and "foreasmuchs". Garion found it to be a trifle overdone, but his Arendish friends certainly didn't have a problem with it.

"She probably has, but that is one of the prices we have to pay, isn't it?" Zakath asked with a short laugh.

"I think they think it is their job, my friend." Garion agreed. "Ce'Nedra won't let me leave the room in the morning if I haven't combed my hair to her exact pleasure, or haven't worn the clothes that she had picked out for me in her mind."

"There are some good things about marriage, Garion." Varana objected. Varana was Garion's brother in law, and emperor of the Tolnedran Empire.

"I never said they weren't, I just said that they come at a price."

"I assume you will want me to defend my kinswomen?" Porenn asked slyly, a smile creeping up to her face. Porenn was Queen of the Drasnian, a race of spys and cheats. She, however, was absolutely brilliant, and she could usually out-debate any one of the men in the room. The only one she had some trouble fighting with was Urgit, but that was to be expected.

"No need, Porenn. Plus, I don't think you would have much of a basis to stand on. We could just denounce you as 'one of them' and leave it at that." Urgit said with a grin which spread across his face from ear to ear.

"Men!" Porenn exclaimed.

Drosta of the Nadraks and Nathall, King of Thulls, sat in the corner, talking amoungst themselves about some trade contract they were trying to write up. There were little whines coming from the Thull, although none of the other monarchs bothered to ask what was wrong. Whines were to be expected from a Thull.

"I do believe that we have all forgotten the reaosn we have attended this coucil today, my friends." King Fulrach of Sendaria began. The Sendars were a practical people, and Fulrach did show his heritage in each meeting. Besides Durnik the smith, now Disciple of Aldur, Fulrach was the most practical person Garion knew of. "We need to discuss the matters of affair in Maragor, set up a school for Relg and Taiba's children, and the like."

"I don't think that will be nessacary." Relg answered. "I am sure Taiba and I will be able to handle it." Relg was an Ulgo that Garion had known ever since his quest for the Orb had merely begun. He had been a zealot, someone completely devoted to his god, until Taiba had come and changed his life. Now he looked out after his wife and children, as they rebuilt the people of Mara, called the Marags.

"No, Relg" Aheg bellowed. "We insist that allow us to offer you our assitance! You are our friend, of course."

"The first thing you will probably want to do.." Sadi, Chief Eunich of the Palace of Nyissa continued, "Is figure out some type of government that does not include the poisioning and killing of other members of the government."

Relg looked shocked.

"It happens sometimes, Relg. It is always good to be prepared."

Later that day, Garion found himself in his guest room, amists the wailing of his two children, and of course, the screaming of his wife, Ce'Nedra. The argument this time was whether his eldest son, the heir to the Rivan Throne, Geran, was going to rest in the same bed as his his sister, Beldaran, that particular evening. Both the prince and princess were protesting to that particular idea, until his wife concluded the conversation by raising the pitch of her voice several octaves. The argument immediately stopped after that.

"Must they always argue as so?" The young wolf who stayed with them asked of Garion, in the manner of the wolves.

"One thinks that one's mate and one's pups enjoy such things." Garion answered back solemly .

"One finds the man-things quite strange." The wolf said to Garion, licking his nose with his long tongue.

"One must agree."

"Garion!" Ce'Nedra beckoned her husband, "Can you make the beds? Beldaran needs to be bathed, and Geran is going out to play with his friends."

Garion sighed slightly, and he responded with a nod. Quickly, his wife and two children departed, leaving the Rivan King in the room alone, to stop and think for a while. It seemed that there was nothing for him to do, except study the weather. His grandfather had told him explicitly not to play with weather unless he had two thousand years of knowledge and study. That had happened after he set up a giant thunderstorm over a battlefield in Arendia, effectively stopping the armys which were on the verge of war, which was not all that uncommon in Arendia.

That brought him to another question. Would he really live through the millenia, as an immortal, unless someone came to kill him? It was possible that the only reason Belgarath and the others were kept alive was because they had to, in order to fulfill the wishes of the prophecy. It was then entirely possible that he would wither away and fade, just like everyone other man in existance. However, when he last spoke to the voice of the prophecy, which was a couple of days or so after the Choice of Cyrandis, former Seeress of Kell, it, or was it he, told him to expect a lot of children. Also, there were Gromlin priests whom he was positive were not essential in the broad scheme of things that were kept alive through the ages due to their knowledge in sorcery, so Garion could really not be all too sure.

Just then, his now sudded wife ran back into the room to fetch a towel. However, she stopped in the middle and looked crossly over to Garion.

"Garion.." She said quietly, "Didn't I ask you to make the beds."

Garion was slightly startled by his wife's sudden accusation. Of course, it was completely legitamate and he had no excuse to give her. "Yes dear."

"Then why isn't it made yet?"

"I didn't get around to it just yet, dear. It has only been seven minutes anyhow, I don't see your prob-"

"Garion" She said, cutting him off in the middle of his sentence. "I don't care why you didn't do it, just do it." She then flung a towel over her shoulder, and proceeded into the bathroom, where he could hear his daughter squealing in delight, and most probably slashing water over everything and anything that was in her sights.

Of course, his wife was probably expecting him to get on his knees, and carefully arrange the bed according to the style of the Rivan household. She was expecting him to delicately fold the covers over the pillows himself, only after getting the pillows from the closet and fluffing them.

Of course, Garion was NOT going to do anything of the sort. He was not going to get down the pillows, he was not going to fluff them, and he was not going to fold the covers over the pillows in a delicate manner. Instead, he quickly gathered his Will, forming the image of how the bed should look in his mind. He then brought his hand down slightly, as he forced his Will upon the bed. His grandfather always got upset with him and his aunt using a gesture while in the midsts of sorcery, as it was really unneeded to perform the act. However, just like his grandfather always stressed, Garion did it for a certain style, or finesse.

"Make yourself." He commanded, as the pillows and covers quickly folded into their exact locations all too easily. He did it just in time, also, as right after the bed was made, his wife walked back in, followed by Beldaran, who was clad in a robe of sorts.

Ce'Nedra looked around the room critically, as if she was trying to find something wrong with it. Garion thought she had spent too much time with Polgara, and it already rubbed off on her. Why must women all look for the negatives in a situation?

Finally, when it appeared that she was satified, she gave Garion a quick smile, and began to dress Beldaran in a nice dress. Garion watched happily as his daughter played with his wife's crown while Ce'Nedra concentrated on tying her daughter's shoelaces correctly. She then let Beldaran loose, watching as the little girl ran from the room and towards the one of her friends, squealing in laughter.

Ce'Nedra then rose up, walking briskly to Garion. She lifted herself on her tip-toes and planted a sweet kiss upon the lips of her husband. She then detached herself, and smiled up at Garion.

"It's nice that you won't have any more reasons to run off anymore. It will allow us to spend some more time together…"

Garion coughed uncomfortably.

"We'll have to find something for the children to do however," Ce'Nedra laughed wickedly. "I wouldn't want them here when we spend our time together."

Slowly, Garion's ears turned a bright red.

"Would you like to hear what I think we should do?"

Mutely and quickly, Garion shook his head to reply, but Ce'Nedra told him, anyway.

Garion then promptly fled.

Prince Geran wandered around the halls aimlessly. He and his friends had decided, based on the size of the castle, that the best game for today would be hide and seek. The only problem was, that there were so many hiding spots amoung the castle, Geran was not sure which one would be the best one. He passed from coridor to coridor, and none truly matched his expectations for the perfect hiding spot. That is, until, he found a niche in the wall, which could be covered by a drape from the outside. Nimbly, he crawled into that concealed space, and drew the curtain infront of it. There he sat for several minutes, his knees tucked into his chest, keeping as quiet as possible.

Finally, he began to hear footsteps from the outside. They seemed to be coming nearer and nearer, until they finally stopped right infront of the curtain. Geran held his breath for a second, wondering how they could have found him already, but the man out there did not draw the curtain from the "door" that concealed his hiding spot. Rather, that man seemed to be speaking to another man, about what were obviously international issues.

"I don't like the way the meeting is going," said the first man. He had a deep scruffy voice, which seemed to rattle in the head of the seven year old boy. "The Alorns think they are running it all."

"I agree." The second man didn't have a scruffier voice, but it was more powerful, echoing through the halls of the palace. "But, what are we going to do about it? It is their meeting, and we were only invited."

"Keep your voice down!" snapped the first. It was obvious to Geran that they were talking about things which they didn't want any other people to know. "However, I don't believe a single word of the whole new god. Eriond is but a child! How can he be our god?"

"I say that it is an Alorn plot. Maybe that boy is just a sorceror, just like Ctuchik and Zedar were. He can do some strange things, but I would hardly call him a god! And where do you think he learned this magical nonsense? I heard rumors that he stayed in the Vale of Aldur, taken care of by Polgara the sorceress herself!" The second man obviously was upset with the idea of Eriond being his god. Geran wondered why. It wasn't as if, from what he had heard, that Torak was a nice god to begin with. At least Eriond was nicer.

"And brings us to another point," continued the second man. " Why would a god need to be taken care of anyway? It all very improbable, if you ask me."

"But what can we do? We are only nobles, while our kings are laughing along with the Alorn monarchs. We don't have any might, we can't go up against the entire army of the Angarak kings!"

"That is where you are wrong. I bet most of the armies think the way we do. And you read stories about Ce'Nedra before Thull Mardu. The Tolnedrans didn't care for the war in the first place, but she got them to do it. And if a runt like her can do it, surely two men like ourselves can!" That kind of talk got Geran upset. He knew that his mother was short, but he could never imagine someone calling her a runt! He gritted his teeth just thinking about it. Surely his father would make those two pay for calling her that. In his momentary anger, he banged his hand against the wall, making a soft thud. Then, realizing what he did, he pulled his hand back in a quick motion.

"Be quiet!" The first man snapped, as the creaking of his footsteps went through the floor. "I think I heard something."

"I didn't hear anything," bellowed the second man.

"That's because you are screaming, you fool! Come with me. I know a place in the castle where no one will be able to hear us."

Geran kept still, as he heard the footsteps of the two man start again, and then gradually decrease to a whisper. Finally, he heard a door slam shut, and let his body relax. As soon as possible, he would have to tell father about this, but not right now. He heard the sound of his friends voices calling out, to try and lure him from his hiding spot.

Later, Garion sat, listening intently to what his child was telling him.

"And then they said how they were going to do something!" Geran cried out to his father, flaling his arms. When Geran got upset, he made up half the entire conversation with his hand motions and the like.

"I don't know, Geran. Are you sure that is what you heard?" Garion asked skeptically. He leaned down to look his child full in the face.

"I didn't make it up, father!" Geran cried again. He then put his hands upon his father's shoulders, and shook them with all his might. "They really were talking about it."

Garion blinked, and finally sighed. He then sat up straight, looking down at his son. "Alright, I believe you, but this is serious. Are you sure that is exactly what they said? Did you add anything, or leave anything out?"

"No. No. No! That is exactly what they said." Geran exclaimed.

Garion then turned to the young wolf that stayed with them. Garion didn't quite understand why, but Wolf seemed to understand things better than the rest of them could. Maybe it had to do with how wolve's minds are more focused, and how they can think of the problems in a less frantic way than humans could.

"Well, what do you make of it, little brother?" Garion asked in the manner of the wolves.

"One believes that one's offspring is making a issue for a reason, revered sire." Wolf had picked up several words of man's tongue in his stay with Garion and his family. He was starting to address people by their rank in the human word, rather then their rank in a wolf's pack. "One knows him well, and he has never been as frantic to tell you something as now, or so one remembers."

"One will listen to your words, little brother." Garion concluded that Wolf was right. His son never made such big issues about things nowadays. "Come on, Geran," he told his son, once again speaking in human tongue, "We are going to go tell Belgarath about this. I don't think this is something to be taken lightly."

Belgarath was in the dining hall, sipping on some fine wine, when Garion approached him. Belgarath, it seemed, had decided that now it was time to lay back and relax. Poledra, however, sat there disapprovingly. Garion's grandmother had never been fond of the smell of alchohol, which was the reason that his grandfather was drinking such aromatic wine. Belgarath, however, didn't seem to mind at all.

"Hello Garion, what brings you over here?" Belgarath said, putting his glass down upon the table. "And you brought Geran also? Why didn't you bring Ce'Nedra and Beldaran along with you as well"

"Grandfather, Geran told me that he heard some people plotting in the back halls." Garion began, hoping his grandfather would take him seriously.

"So? Whats wrong with that?" Belgarath interceded. "Many people plot against the royalty. It seems to fulfill some of their goals in life." He then picked up his glass, to take another sip of that fine wine.

"I wish you wouldn't drink so much of that, dear." Poledra said softly, placing his hand upon his husband's arm. "It leaves an odor in your mouth that disturbs me at night."

"Which is why, dear, I took some from this fine wine over there. This wine will not disturb your sleep at night."

"Grandfather!" Garion said urgently. He really did not like to disrupt his grandfather's conversations with his grandmother, he knew how much he had suffered, or perhaps he would never know. However, this was urget. "That is just it! It wasn't the kings they were plotting against!"

"Oh really?" Belgarath said, as he lifted the glass up to his lips. "I don't see anyone else they could possibly plot against, but why are you upset? It isn't against you, is it?"

"No," Garion began, becoming slightly unsure of how Belgarath would take it. "They were sort of, uh, plotting against Eriond."

That is when Garion finally knew for sure that the carpet, and the fine red wine that Belgarath was drinking, matched in color almost perfectly.

"You can't be serious, Garion," Poledra began in his husband's stead. Belgarath was busy stuttering over some choice curses that he kept for just such an occasion. "Why would someone plot against a god? Especially their god."

"According to Geran, they said that Eriond wasn't a god at all. Only someone that Aunt Pol brought up as a sorceror, who we could put as their god, to get them under our control."

"Is that true, Geran?" Garion's tawny haired grandmother asked, as she turned to Geran, her great grandson.

"Yes great-grandmother. I heard them while I was hiding behind a curtain in the halls." Geran answered proudly. Garion noticed that it wasn't all that much that Geran got to be the center of attention, well after he was kidnapped by Zandramas, of course.

It was about then that Belgarath regained his composure, and walked back to the others. "This is a serious manner. I think I will have to talk to the monarchs immediately. We cannot wait to long, for this to get out of hand."

"I'll go bring them to the main hall, where we can.." Garion began, but he was cut off by a gesture from Belgarath.

"We cannot show the plotters that we are on to them, Garion." He said, explaining the situation. "We will have to meet in some visiting monarch's throne room, preferably an unused one. This will have to be kept in complete secrecy." The old sorceror then turned to Geran, looking down upon his great-grandson. "Will you be able to keep this a secret? You won't be able to tell any of your friends about it, no one."

Geran straighted his body up, and tried to make himself look more important, Garion noticed. "I won't tell anyone, great-grandfather. You can count on me!"

Belgarath smiled slightly to his great-grandson, and then turned back to Garion. "You go and round up the Alorn monarchs, I'll round up the others. Take them to the Thull throneroom. No one would think any intelligent conversation could go on there. I don't think there are even places for spies to watch us." He then turned to his wife, and it seemed that someone unsaid passed between them. Poledra nodded, and took Geran back towards the royal suites.

Belgarath then turned back to his grandson, his face suddenly completely solemn. "Come on, Garion. We have a long night ahead of us"

The monarchs settled in noisily, clasping each other on the backs, and laughing at their own jokes. Everyone seemed to be in a blissful mood, due to the impending peace which they saw. It took a while for Belgarath to calm them down.

"My friends," He began, as he looked over all the monarchs present. No one had been left out, from Anheg to Nathel, everyone had come. "We have a problem of the upmost seriousness on our hands. First of all, if any of you have spies, you must send them away immediately." He glanced seriously over to Porenn, the Drasnian representitive. "And I mean it. No one can know what information passes through here today."

The other monarchs looked befuddled, but Porenn made some sharp finger gestures, and the quiet sounds of people leaving their posts reluctantly could be heard around the room. She then nodded to Belgarath.

"Alright, Belgarath." Varana began, always the first to make these types of statements. It had to do with the Tolnedran race's disregard for anything supernatural. "What is the meaning of all of this? Why did you call us to a meeting in a side room, rather than the main one?"

Cho-Hag lifted his hand up towards the Tolnedran monarch, silencing him with a short gesture. "I am sure that Holy Belgarath has a reason of upmost importance, if he took all this time to make sure we conduct a meeting on it in absolute secrecy."

Belgarath nodded to Cho-Hag , and then raised his voice slightly, so it had an overpowering attributes. "It has come to my attention that people are plotting against the acceptance of the new God of Angarak, Eriond."

There was a stunned silence that filled the room, followed by outraged conversations between monarchs. Absolute anarchy developed the room, that is, until Belgarath had decided that he had become tired of it.

"Enough!" He snapped. Once again, there was complete silence in the room. When the Ancient man told you to do something, you almost always did it. "We are not going to get anywhere by yelling at each other. Let us resolve this like men, and in a more quiet manner!"

"Do we know who these plotters are?" Anheg asked from his seat towards the middle.

"The only thing we know, as of now, is that they are Angaraks." Belgarath answered.

"Outragous!" Drosta exclaimed, slamming his hand down upon a circular table which was in the center of the room. "Why would Angaraks want to plot against their own god! Isn't the loss of one god enough for them? Or do they want to do their best to loose a second! It doesn't make any sense for them to be Angaraks."

"It was implied in the conversation." Belgarath explained to the mortified monarch. "Garion can tell you everything that happened. His son was the one that heard the whole conversation. Garion…"

Garion slowly stood up infront of his fellow kings, and drew in a breath noisily. "My son, Geran, was playing a game with his friends which had him hiding in a certain area in the halls of the palace. From that place, he heard two men talking about how outraged they are in the Angarak monarchs accepting Eriond as their new god. Geran said that the tone of voice implied some type of action, which I presume to be military."

"But," Zakath began, looking Garion full in the face, "Why would they think such a thing? Are you sure that your son can be trusted? Did he embellish it at all?"

Garion was about to answer that, his temper rising slowly, but Belgarath was too quick for him. "I do not believe that my great-grandson was embellishing the facts a single bit. I do believe, gentlemen, that we have to discuss the dispersion of this rebellion as quick as possible."

"You know, it does make some sense." Urgit said, his nose twitching slightly as he talked. "We Angaraks have always been stubborn little creatures, and I don't think many of will be able to handle the idea of having a new god coming from an Alorn upbringing. It is the sort of thing that would sort of get on our nerves."

Nathel, who was usually quiet, began to state his agreement with Urgit. "Mother says that Alorns bring their children up in a vile fashion. I don't believe her, but that is what she seriously thinks. And I am not going to correct her, because I don't want her to think I am a bad boy…"

Zakath rolled his eyes slightly. That is when King Fulrach of Sendaria began to speak. "My friends, I do believe that a military course of action is not only going to have to be taken, but also an intellgence one. Porenn, do you think that your spies would be able to find out the indentities of those plotters?"

"Well, the only spy that could, that I can think of, at least, is Silk." Porenn said, thinking over the idea outloud. "However, Silk went off to do buisness…somewhere in Algaria! If I am right, he should be heading here right now!"

"Alright then, this meeting is over, gentlemen." Belgarath said in that tone of finality. "Get some sleep, because we are going to have some nice long meetings tommorow."

Belgarath then took Poledra by the arm, and slowly exited.


	6. Chapter 6

Garion awoke the next morning, opening his drowsy eyes to the bright rays of sunlight, cascading upon his royal bed. He took a deep breath in, his sense of smell guiding his eyes towards a breakfast which had been layed out for him upon a table near his bed. Ce'Nedra and the children didn't seem to be about, so he decided that they had gone off by themselves. However, when he made an attempt to get out of bed, his feet wouldn't react, and that is when he got that feeling in the pit of his stomach.

He had definitely had too much to drink last night.

He couldn't go find Ce'Nedra to complain about how sick he felt, he knew that she would just laugh scornfully, in the way that women do. Poledra would probably act in a simillar manner, so that counted her out. Belgarath was probably doing too much right now, so the only person he could truly decide on was Barak.

Throwing on some royal robes, Garion slowly eased himself through the halls towards Barak's room. He vaguely remembered where it was, since his last visit was several years ago, during the time he still beared the name "Child of Light". Finally, after groping around the corridors, he found himself at the red-beared man's door, and he knocked on the door softly. It was his wife Meril that answered the door.

"Oh, hello Garion. Is there anything I can do for you?" However, then she got a better look at the sick king standing infront of her, and slowly shook her head in disapproval. "I assume you want to get well with Barak? I don't know what possess you to drink so much."

"Thank you." Garion said politely, not really wanting to think about all the people that told him not to drink. It would make him more meloncholy than he already was.

Barak sat upon a chair, his fingers wrapped around another bottle of ale. He smiled at Garion in a sickly sort of way, and then took a chug from the bottle. Garion sat down slowly, and nodded to his friend.

"I never really understood how the extra drinking helps." Garion pointed out.

"It doesn't," Barak said with a shrug, "But, it helps me get into a comotose state which allows me to forget exactly how sick I feel."

"I see…" Garion said. His eyes darted around the room, where he saw some various clothing and armor. "So, where is Unrak these days. He is here, isn't he?"

"Of course," Barak said, a little bit defensively. "He is, after all, the protector of your son. I bring him over every chance I get."

"With the way things are going," Garion said, "I don't know if Geran will need a protector. The world is coming down into a bad case of peace, as Silk says."

"Wonder where he is." Barak said, again shrugging his shoulders. "Anyway, weren't you alive last night? The other monarchs are planning on pulling the world apart stone by stone in search of those two who are trying to rebel against Eriond."

"I guess you are right, its just…" Garion let out a sigh, as he looked out through the window at the open grasslands which covered all of Algaria. "I have this feeling like it isn't over yet."

Barak laughed shortly, although not that loudly. He was sick after all. "Garion, if you mean our excapades from years past? I don't think we will have many more of those. Remember, Cyrandis chose us over the others, so there isn't much for us to do anyway, is there?"

"I am not sure. I found a couple of things in grandfather's book and Aunt Pol's book that seemed to say to me, at least, that we aren't quite over yet." Garion said.

Barak drank a bit more of his ale, and then placed the bottle back down onto the table. "Did you check those scrolls Belgarath always is saying predicts the future. Maybe they would say something."

"No, the Mrin doesn't go past the choice." Garion said. "But it still doesn't feel right. I feel like there is yet more things to do. Things that couldn't be done without the seven gods."

"Garion, I am sure it is just because you are worried about these two traitors." Barak said, with another swig of that ale. "Once it passes, you won't think of anything else, except, maybe, why Ce'Nedra screams so much."

"You could be right."

Barak just smiled, and waved it off. Lifting the bottle of ale to his lips once again, he took a long drink, and then placed it down on the chair again. "Did they get any notice to where Silk is?"

"You know as much as I do. I didn't ask anyone this morning." Garion then looked at the sun, at its position in the sky. They were supposed to have their first meeting when the sun was exactly in the middle of the sky, and it nearly was already. "I think the meeting is going to start soon."

"Alright." Barak said, slowly getting up from the chair he was sitting on. "I feel a bit better than I did this morning."

Then the two left for the meeting area, where the events would be discussed.

Garion found this meeting slightly repetitive. Whenever an Western Monarch stood up to make a comment, the Angarak kings would denounce them, saying that it was there problem, and that they should only discuss it for now, not take any decisive action. That would get Anheg into an uproar, knowing how Anheg is, and he would go on for a half of an hour, explaining how this dealt with the world, pulling out the Mrin every once and a while. Belgarath sat with Poledra, smiling silently, as he watched the monarchs argue.

"Finally!" Anheg said hotly, on this fourth time around, "It says it in the Mrin, 'And he Shall Lordship and Dominion.' Who do you think this is over? Eriond is supposed to be the god of this planet, eventually, so it really requires all of us!"

"Anheg," Urgit replied cooly, his nose twitching slightly. "It is the main purpose of that whole previous excapade for Eriond to be the God of the World, I agree. The fact is, however, he isn't yet. So it still remains in the hands of the Angarak monarchs."

"Yes, but you have to remember that an eventuality requires for all of us to watch over Eriond! It is like a woman who is having a baby. They still watch over the baby, even though it isn't there yet!"

"My dear friend," Urgit said, through a broad smile, "Your comparisson is slightly off. First, we must remember that Eriond is not child. He is a God, and just so happens to be the God of the Angaraks. But, putting this aside, what do you plan on doing about it? You think going in and killing people is the best way to settle things?"

Anheg nodded feircly. "Yes, in fact I do."

Urgit smiled, and made a slight waving gesture with his hand. "Did it occur to you that our God doesn't like people to be killed? He made that very clear to the Grolims, didn't he Zakath?"

Zakath, who had been smiling as he watched his once hated, but now liked fellow monarch bring this argument to a close. "Why yes. I never thought the Temple of Tora-, excuse me, Eriond, could smell that fresh."

"I don't follow you…" Anheg said, his voice showing that he was not too sure of his point of view any longer.

"Well, my Cherek friend." Urgit replied, his nose how twitching with ferocious speed. "Eriond dislikes the notion of killing people. What were you expecting to do? Start killing off people in his nation without him knowing about it?"

Anheg blinked.

"I thought so. I think that brings the matter to a close, don't you?"

"Urgit," Anheg began gravely, "I like you, but your mind is too much like your brothers."

"So they tell me."

"So, Gentlemen," Belgarath said, slowly rising into the air, "Have you decided on the way you will pursue these threats?"

"Well, I would like to ask Silk what he thinks." Porenn answered with a sharp tone. Obviously she did not like being refered to as a "Gentleman". "Of anyone that would know how to handle a situation like this, it would be Silk."

"Methinks ye may be right, your Highness." Krodullin said, to the firm approval of Mandorallen, the invincible Mimbrate knight.

"Mine King," Mandorallen said, "Speaks judiciously. Prince Kheldar, being the sly knave he is, couldst come up with a contrivance."

Urgit looked around, his fingers tapping against the wood of his throne. Barak placed a firm slap of his giant hand onto the Murgo King's back. "Don't worry, Urgit. We don't doubt you. Silk just knows more about stealing, spying and hiding than you do."

At least that was a plus, Garion thought. He hadn't seen Silk for a while, and he missed the outrageous retorts of the small little man. Silk always had something to say, and it usually had to do with ridiculing someone else.

"So that is it then?" Garion asked, looking around as his fellow monarchs. "We wait for Silk?"

There were some nods, and finally, Cho-Hag stood up, looking around at the numerous guests. "I do believe that we should go down and explain matters to our wives. I will tell the guards to be on the lookout, and send some messangers around the area to pick up Silk."

Ce'Nedra was ecstatic when Garion told her that Silk was going to be coming. However, she wasn't too excited about seeing the man, rather, about seeing the man's wife.

"Oh Garion! I haven't seen Velvet in such a long time!" Ce'Nedra replied cheerfully.

"Well, you should be seeing her soon, dear. There really isn't any place for Silk to hide, as Algaria is basically just one big, open grassland." Garion replied, smiling slightly as he saw his wife reacting to the news so happily.

"I have to get a new dress, of course." Ce'Nedra then started, walking over to a desk which they had in the room, and began to write down the things she would need. "And some new jewlery. A nice dress for Beldaran, and a nice new suit for Geran. Oh! And we have to polish your crown, to make you look regal."

"To make me?" Garion asked, startled slightly. If he wasn't regal now, what was the whole point of Ce'Nedra's being so bossy on exactly what he wore, and exactly how he wore it.

"Dear, you look handsome now." She said neutrally. "However, I want you to look regal."

Garion felt slightly hurt. Ce'Nedra, as if she could sense it, walked over to him, and planted a quick kiss upon his cheek. "Don't worry Garion, I'll love you no matter how servile you look."

"Thanks awefully."

Ce'Nedra giggled and patted her husband upon the other cheek. Then, her lips turned up into a wicked smile. "Garion, do you think they have any children yet?"

Garion blinked slightly, not really sure where that question was coming from. "I don't know, why do you ask, Ce'Nedra?"

"Well, you remember before the Choice, when each of them were sneaking into each other's bedrooms. What do you think they were doing there?"

"CE'NEDRA!"

Ce'Nedra giggled, and then planted another kiss upon her husband. "Come on, Garion. I don't think it is going to be all that long before they come."

Across the plains of Drasnia, there were five friends venturing on towards the next city. They moved more cautiously now, peering from side to side to glance across those boundless grasslands in search of a Murgo who might be on the way. However, since their last encounter with the group of Murgos, none had been foolish enough to take up a battle with them.

"Methinks, that the Murgos hast ran like the craven beasts they are, from our propinquity." Mikkal said, looking around at the plains from atop his mount.

Silk looked over his shoulder to the Arend, sighing with a slap of his hand to his forehead. Garriel know why. Mikkal acted like a Mimbrate, he would have been the very definition of one if it wasn't for something peculiar about his appearance that made them uncertain to his geneology. What is was, however, Garriel really couldn't figure out.

Sabre looked at Silk, then over to his Arendish friend. He shrugged his shoulders, and glanced over to Garriel, pulling his horse over to him. He then leaned over from his saddle, speaking softly into his friend's ear. "Garriel, I think that we might need a leash for Mikkal soon. He is starting to act like a Mimbrate Knight."

Garriel looked at his friend with a perplexed expression, which then fell to a solemn nod.

"I think you boys are making too much of it." Velvet spoke to them softly. She had pulled up her horse behind the two, and was leaning forward, making sure that her voice was as quiet and her gesture as inconspicuous as possible. There wasn't a real need for it anyway. Mikkal didn't have enough mental power to assume that they were talking about him. "It it amuses him, then let him play knight."

Garriel and Sabre looked at each other, and then with a shrug of their shoulders, accepted the blond Drasnian's advice.

"It's better this way anyway. He seems to be the strongest of all of us, and people don't usually attack Mimbrate knights. It he plays the part, I don't think there will be a reccurence."

"There is a city coming up!" Silk called from the front of their party, pointing at a wall slowly rising out over the horizon. Garriel estimated that it was some 2 leagues away.

"I think it is the surrounding area of the Stronghold." Velvet said wisely, lifting a single hand up, to block the sun from getting into her eyes are she glanced at the incoming habitation.

"The Stronghold?" Mikkal asked, looking over to Sabre for some clarification. It seemed he never paid attention when the bards came to their herd, and told them of when Torak, the One-eyed, Maimed God of Angarak had set seige to that landmark, but never conquered it.

"It's the Algar palace, Mikkal." Sabre said, with a gesture of his hand. Sabre, it seemed, enjoyed to be extravagant. "Its where King Cho-Hag and Queen Silar live."

"And it is not where I want to be right now." Silk added, grinding his teeth in his bad fortune.

They all cast Silk strange looks. Even Velvet looked to be slightly confused. Silk took in a breath, sighed, and began to explain.

"Velvet, I don't know why you are confused, unless you haven't been keeping in contact with Javelin. Well, have any of you ever heard of the Alorn Council?"

"That is when the four Alorn Monarchs get together to discuss the current times, isn't it?" Garriel supplied, wondering why it would have such an impact on the small Drasnian.

"Well, those same monarches had been enjoying gathering around me, laughing about my getting married. It seems to be a big joke to them."

That startled the three friends. Not only that, but Velvet wasn't taken aback at all. Sabre, who seemed to be the first to recover his nerves, looked on questioningly. "And why would they do that?" Then he grinned, and Garriel knew he was about to make a witty comment, probably to the liking of the blond Drasnian. "Your choice for wife, I would say, was most ingenius."

Velvet blushed, and then looked at Silk, who although his cheeks were red, Garriel could not be sure it was from embarassment or irritation. "No, Sabre. You don't seem to understand. I used to go around and make it my buisness to make sure everyone knew that I was not married. Of course things and times have changed, but the kings like to rub it in my face every chance they get."

Sabre grinned again. "It sounds like you deserve it, then."

Silk glared at him, as the others smirked under unobtrusivly.

"Alright, you had your fun." Silk said, giving up. "But now, listen. When we get in there, you are going to have to call me by something else."

"Ambar of Kotu?" Garriel suggested.

"No, it has to be something new. My other characters are getting too well known. I think we are going to need something to rise up to the occasion."

"Why doest thou need to comest up with a false appellation, friend Silk? Perchance, we canst just equivocate the city all together?"

"No, that wouldn't look right. We have the bearings of a Drasnian merchant party, and they can obviously see us from over there. There is nothing to obscure their view. If we turned back, or went around it now, it would attract too much attention. Now, I do think that we will walk on towards the city slowly, so we can make it just before the sun sets. I don't want to have to go out into the market place until I have all the ideas in place for my new self."

So they slowed their pace smoothly, until their were practically tip-toeing. Garriel kept silent all the while, wondering what was going to happen next. He noticed that Sabre and Velvet chatted about things he could not hope to understands, things like espionauge and thievery. Mikkal sat on his mount, probably trying to compose some more of that bad poetry.

They reached the gates to the city surrounding that fortress right before sundown, just as Silk had wanted. Silk led them to a inn, where they checked in for the night. Then, the Drasnian prince disappeared into his room, obviously working on his new disguise, or rather, person. Garriel looked around the inn, looking at its dust piled corners, its filthy walls, and its squeeking windows. It didn't appear to be habitable, according to him. Sure, he had lived in tents for all his life, or at least until he could remember, but people did have to have to draw the line somewhere. He turned to Sabre, motioning to him, as the two walked to the side, followed by Mikkal.

"I don't like this place," Garriel began, "It doesn't feel right. It is almost as if the innkeepers don't care about the looks of their rooms."

"I hast notice that too, mine friend," Mikkal said, placing one large hand upon Garriel's shoulder, as if he was trying to make a gesture of comfort.. "However, we shalt live with what our friends decide. One must always be curteous to one's providers."

"Prudence, Mikkal?" Sabre said slyly, his eyes narrowing in an amused way, focusing all his attention on the now confused Arend.

"Mine friend, 'tis well know that one must yield to those that provide for him, is it not so?" Mikkal said, in an attempt to defend himself.

"No, no. It's just that you like to jump head into things usually, Mikkal." Sabre waved off the thought. "It just seemed strange that you would take a view like that, that is all."

"What Sabre means," Garriel spoke up quickly, "Is that you usually like to be more independent, not relying on the care of others." While he was speaking, he brought his hand up to Sabre's mouth slowly, as to stop him from making any further comments. He was confusing Mikkal enough as it is.

"Ah, why didnst thou say so, Sabre?" Mikkal inquired.

Garriel still held his hand over Sabre's mouth, and decided that he would speak for him. "Sabre was making a joke, Mikkal. He thinks that he is funny sometimes."

Dinner that night was patridge, delicately roasted with some fine spices. Garriel sort of owndered how they got such fine foods in a place like this, and then it occurred to him that Silk and Velvet were probably capable of hiring chefs to bring in and cook their meals for them. Those were two very resourceful people to be traveling with. As he looked around the table, he noticed some familiar faces and some new ones, but there was one face that seemed slightly familiar, although, he really couldn't place where it was from. Sabre was talking to that person, and he looked just as befuddled as Garriel did.

"So, friend, where are you from?" Sabre was asking this mysterious man.

"Around the fens, actually." the strange man replied. "It smells slightly, but then again, so does the rest of Dransnia."

"And you say that you are a merchant?"

"Yes, why, friend Sabre, would you like to do buisness?"

"No, just curious." Sabre replied, as he rubbed the bottom of his chin. "How do you know Prince Kheldar? It seems that everyone here knows him in some sort of a way."

"We went to school together." The merchant said with a shrug, reaching over for a glass of a particular wine which was standing on the table. "This is very fine stuff. The next time I see Silk I will have to ask him where he got it."

Sabre's eyes narrowed, as he tried to looked deeper at the man who was sitting next to him. He then let out an explosive breath, which was followed by a sigh. "Never mind, I thought you were someone, but I guess I was wrong."

"Really?" The unfamiliar merchant questioned, a bemused looked upon his face. "Who did you think I was? You didn't think I was Silk himself, did you?"

Sabre blushed slightly, as the merchant had apparantly looked straight through him. Garriel was surprised, he had always thought that Sabre was too clever to be caught by a mere merchant from some nameless part of Dransnia. "Yes, in fact, I did." Sabre said, in a slightly subdued voice.

The merchant then let out a peal of laughter, clasping Sabre on the back. He pointed to his leg, and rubbed one leg against the next, and Sabre's eyes widened. Then he two began to break out in laughter.

"What's so funny!" A man on the other side of the table demanded, although his appeal was weakened by the fact that he was notably drunk.

"Nothing, good sir." The merchant replied with a wave of his hand. "The lad and I are merely discussing the strange dealing I had with someone earlier today."

The man, enraged by the obviously diluted answer got up from his seat, although falteringly, and began to trudge in the direction of Sabre and he merchant. The merchant was flicking his fingers at the man, obvoiusly trying to tell him something, but the man was too drunk to read the gestures of the secret language. He came up to Sabre, and lifted him up by the front of his tunic, his eyes unfocused on the air infront of him. "Boy, tell me what you find so amusing!"

The merchant's blow was almost too swift to be seen. He let out a quick jab to the man's stomach, which caused him to drop Sabre upon the floor. Then the man fumbled back, falling to the ground. He made a couple of attempts to get up, but he was simply too drunken to focus his strength. The merchant leaped atop the man, and began to speak to him quite harshly, although Garriel noticed that he was weaving his fingers in the air quite close to the man's eyes. Then, the merchant helped the man up, shaked his hand, and walked back to Sabre.

"Sabre, Garriel and Mikkal. Come with me. I have to discuss something with you." The merchant said quite firmly, as he walked off towards a back room. Garriel looked at Sabre questioningly, but Sabre replied with a calm nod of his head. Garriel then grabbed Mikkal by the arm, and led the Arend towards the room that the merchant had entered.

And there was Silk! He was frowning slightly, rubbing his hands together as he thought.

"Friend Silk!" Mikkal cried. "Couldest thou direct me and mine friends after that sly merchant whom hast directest us to follow within his steps?"

"Mikkal," Silk replied patiently, although he was still frowning. "That merchant was me, or at least, I am the merchant. I haven't all the papers yet, but Valgon of the Fens is going to grow to be quite the merchant in a couple of years."

"What is this all about, Silk?" Velvet asked, as she walked through the door.

"That man who just seemingly attacked Sabre is an old friend of mine, who works at the Stronghold. Apparantly, the monarchs are really anxious to get their hands on me, which is what I thought from the beginning. However, the matter is slightly more serious than I thought."

"What is it?" Velvet asked, her tone slightly more concerned.

"It seems that people are plotting against an old friend of ours, Velvet. And let's just say that this friend of ours has a sort of, divine presence."

Velvet's eyes widened slightly, as she looked to her husband, comprhending a situation which the three friends did not even begin to understand. "You can't be serious!"

"I am afraid I am. So I guess the subterfuge will have to wait, and we have to go talk to their royal Highnesses."

"What do you want us to do?" Garriel asked curiously. "We can probably manage ourselves here for a little while. Sabre is an awefully good haggler, and he can probably earn our keep, while Mikkal could probably take care of other, more mundane matters, no?"

Both Sabre and Mikkal expressed their agreement with abrupt nods of their heads.

"No," Silk said, "I think I am going to take you along. Besides, if the kings really are all here, then Hettar should be there as well. Isn't that the reason that you started on this whole journey, anyway?"

The three friends looked at each other, their eyes wide and their faces astonished. "You mean to say that we are going to be able to see the kings?" Garriel asked.

"Tis a great thing, mine friends," Mikkal added, "For youths, such as ourselves, to be in the overwhelming presence of the august nobility."

"Don't get your hopes up too much." Silk muttered under his breath, but Garriel was pretty sure that it was just him being himself.


	7. Chapter 7

Garriel did not imagine that a castle would be anything like the Stronghold, actually. It seemed to be more of a giant wall, with passages designed to lure enemies into the wrong places, than a castle, whos main function was to house the nobility. As they walked through the halls, however, he did see servants scurrying around, taking care of the day to day affairs of the castle and its residents. Finally, they came up upon a stuffy round man who seemed to be a butler, and Silk had a couple of words to him.

While Silk was talking to the overdressed man, Garriel walked over to Velvet.

"Why is it that this place was built like a fortress?" Garriel asked quietly, not really wanting to disturb the people who were so busy scurrying around, taking care of their own affairs as if each one had a significant impact in the well being of the entire country of Algaria.

"Because it is, Garriel dear." Velvet said, patting the top of his head . Garriel found that slightly confusing. He knew that he, Sabre and Mikkal had become good friends of Silk and his wife, but he didn't think that they were at the point in which they could be considered special relatives, which is what the 'dear' implied.

"What do you mean, it is?"

"It was built with the purpose to keep out anything and everything during a war. Torak and his entire army of Angaraks could not penetrate it, even after years of seige."

When Silk came back, he explained to them that the butler was arranging for them to be presentable to the monarchs, although Garriel did not totally grasp the reason. After that, they were led to chambers where more overlydressed man were waiting for them, along with tubs filled with water, combs and scissors of all shapes and sizes, as well as a change of clothing. When Garriel entered the room, the man waiting for him order him to strip, something that Garriel was surprised he was supposed to do. However, he knew better then to argue, and soon the man was busy scrubbing his back, and cutting his hair. After what seemed to be hours, he was finally allowed to get out of the bath and into the clothes that were awaiting him. These clothes didn't fit all that well, and they were slightly itchy around his thighs, but Garriel didn't complain. He thanked the man, and then went outside to await his friends.

He saw that everyone was there, except for Velvet. Mikkal and Silk seemed to be fairing fine, although Sabre was complaining slightly about the roughness of the clothes which they were given. "Why do they have to make this cloth so course?" He complained, scratching his back vigorously. "They could spend five more seconds, maybe, and spin the thread slightly thinner, couldn't they?"

"These clothing are from northeast Drasnia, Sabre." Silk answered, as he leaned back on a seat which was positioned against on of the walls of the corridor. "And they have a peculiar sense of what is comfortable and what is uncomfortable, besides which, they probably don't realize yet that you can spin thread finer."

"So why did the tailor have to buy this kind of thread?"

"Why do you think? It is cheaper, and he would make a better profit."

"Tis a truly foul thing, that a tailer wouldst be stingy when his king is concerened." Mikkal added gravely.

"He isn't. To him, Mikkal, money is both king and god, and the more of it he has, the more service he is presenting to his king." Silk replied, smirking.

"Truly an unfortunate circumstance." Mikkal said.

"So," Garriel started, "where is Velvet?"

"Women take longer to prepare themselves for public appearance than we do, Garriel. When I was at the Sendarian castle, in the presence of the party I told you about during our nights on the plains, Polgara herself took at least an hour in her preparation. Velvet won't take quite as long, but sitting in these irritating clothes, it will seem like much longer."

Velvet didn't take all that long, and when she arrived, she was dressed in a stunning color, which seemed to match Silk's jewel encrusted doublet. "Alright boys," She said to the three friends, "The kings are going to do something strange things, like make some courtesies and we are going to give you some titles that you might not be too familiar with. Just stand back, and try not to say anything too loud, as some of the kings have a questionable sense of humor." She then cast a wicked glance at Silk, who was still lounging on the chair against the wall, "It seems that royalty as a whole doesn't have a sophisticated sense of humor."

"I'll pretend that I didn't hear that, Velvet." Silk said, sounding slightly pained. The reply was answered with a knowing nod from Velvet, and then she placed her arm within his, and motioned for the others to follow her.

As they were walking, Garriel talked quietly to Sabre. Mikkal seemed to be too impressed by all the royalty to really function at that moment.

"I don't think that we are going to have to meet with Hettar, because meeting the kings is enough of a present for me." Garriel said, his hand over his mouth to conceal the whisper.

"No, Garriel. I promised you that you would meet Hettar, and for you to learn to ride a horse much better, and I will keep that promise."

The throne room was the biggest place Garriel had ever seen. To put it simply, it was immense, and filled with kings, nobles, servants and the like. It was not hard for Garriel to tell the difference between them. The servants seemed to have a slightly more worried look upon their faces, and they were rushing around in order to complete their job, and not to be reprimanded by their superiors. Garriel understood that perfectly. The nobles seemed to be seated at the side, holding scrolls so protectively, that one would think that they held the most vital secrets in the world. The kings, on the other hand, sat below large banners of their kingdoms, and laughed and joked amongst themselves, not caring for the world around them. It must a very fine thing to be a king, Garriel imagined.

"Your royal majesties!" The butler who had been bringing them over announced, bowing deeply to the monarchs. "May I present to you Prince Kheldar of Drasnia!"

"Your majesties," Silk said, with a fluid, almost mocking, bow, "Myself and my lowly party tremble in your august presence."

As far as Garriel could tell, the only one that was not laughing was the one under the horse banner, however, that is what he expected. Cho-Hag, although a very wise king, was also very soft.

"Silk, we already know your wife, why don't you introduce us to those other three that you brought along." A red bearded giant who sat next to the throne under the ship banner boomed.

"Of course my dear Barak, whatever was I thinking. However, my wife would simply destroy me if I did not properly introduce her, so for all of you that care, and I am sure you much, I would like to present my wife, Princess Liselle of Drasnia." Silk replied. So the red bearded man was Barak. Garriel had heard of him from Silk's stories on the way there, not to mention the storyteller's stories.

"Silk," The monarch sitting under the sword banner began patiently, "The other three…"

"Of course Belgarion, I was just getting to them."

Belgarion of Riva? The Godslayer? Garriel looked over to his companions, and he noticed that they were just as amazed as he was. Of course, they knew that all the monarchs were going to be there, but Belgarion wasn't just a monarch, he was a legend. Somehow, Garriel didn't feel that his presence in the throne room was now allowed. He felt that maybe the people in the throne room were too fine, too powerful, to be in the company of so lowly a cattle herder.

Silk went on. "The Arend, is a valiant boy by the name of Mikkal. It was not a few days ago that he saved us all from a band of Murgos that were intent on providing us with our ends."

A thin man who sat under a lance banner got to his feet, and looked down at Mikkal. "It pleases mine ears to hear such heroic tales from what, methinks, a prime example of Arendia's greatest yield."

Mikkal, it seems, did not recognize Krodullin of Arenia right away, but as soon as he did, his face went absolutely pale. He fell to one knee, and bowed his head. "Lord King, mine life is to serve thee and mine country, Arendia, by demonstrating what she hast given unto her children."

"Well met, Mikkal." A man standing next to the throne said, through his body of steel.

"And the young Drasnian is named Sabre, and while he is not my relative, he has already shown talent in the area of guile." Silk announced, looking rather proudly at Sabre.

"And not only that, but he beat him in sales when we first met him." Velvet added, to the extreme discomfort of her husband, Garriel noticed.

There was a woman sitting under the reindeer banner, and she let out a cheerful laugh, looking fondly down at Silk, Velvet, and then finally to Sabre. "I think I will be able to find you a job in my intellegence service when become of age, Sabre. Not many people can beat Kheldar in a deal."

"Finally, the Algarian lad, whom although has not done anything monumental on the trip, besides, of course, being the only one that could think clearly most of the time, and spot the dangers as they arose, is Garriel." Silk concluded. Not done anything monumental? Garriel just guessed that it was Silk trying to be funny.

"My son," Cho-Hag began, smiling fondly at Garriel, "How goes the herding nowadays? Unfortunately, I am too busy with affairs to really tend to the every need of my people."

"I don't know about the other herds, but ours seems to be growing. I think it is because we don't have to move them as often to escape the Murgo raids." Garriel answered.

"Now, allow me to introduce the kings of the world to you, if, that is, the monarchs do not mind being introduced by so lowly a servant."

"Go ahead, Silk." Belgarion replied.

"Are you sure, Garion. There is probably someone much more suitable to introduce your august majesties than me."

"Get on with it."

Silk grinned wickedly at the king of Riva, and then bowed gracefully to his wife, and their three companions. "My lady and friends. First, and foremost, it pleases me to introduce Belgarion of Riva, Godslayer, Lord of the Western Sea, Overlord of the West, Previous Child of Light, and Keeper of the Orb."

"Kheldar, be serious." The little queen sitting under the reindeer banner ordered.

"Not a chance, Auntie dearest." Silk said mockingly. Then he moved over, so that behind him was the monarch that sat under the warboat banner. "Behind me sits King Anheg, Ruler of Cherek, and Commander of the World's Greatest Navy…."

Silk went on like this, moving from monarch to monarch, and mockingly called them by all the titles he could come up with, eventually getting so into it, that he began creating titles from scratch. Garriel leaned over to Velvet, who looked on with inhuman patience. "Does he always go on like this?"

"It depends. When there is actually something to do, usually not. Right now, he is busy poking fun at the kings."

"And you let him do that?"

"Wouldn't you?"

Finally, Silk finished his embellished introductions, and walked aside to talk to Queen Porenn of Drasnia. It seemed that most of the monarchs resumed what they were doing. King Anheg, King Fulrach and King Belgarion, along with the red bearded giant who Silk introduced as Barak of Trellheim, sat lazily upon their thrones, talking to each other cheerfully. Velvet of course had followed her husband to discuss matters of which Garriel was unsure. Mikkal had gone off to talk to the knight that spoke earlier, in the company of his High King, King Krodullin. Sabre had gone off to talk with the thin man by the name of Javelin, who was the head of the Drasnian spy service. The Angarak kings spoke to each other, in the company of Ran Borune of Tolnedra and Sadi, Chief Eunuch of the Palace of the Serpent Queen.

Garriel felt quite alone, actually. His friends had gone off to talk to the kings of their nations, while Cho-Hag, the Chief Clan-Chief of Algaria sat upon his throne, in the company of a strange old man. It would probably be rude to interupt, so Garriel just stood there, watching the conversations go on.

Belgarion of Riva was discussing with Anheg and Fulrach about the recent matters of that Angarak rebellion.

"So, how is the family, Garion? Last I remember, you had a little boy running around your feet, and a girl who could fit inside your tiny wife's arm." Anheg started pleasantly.

"You know how families grow. Geran is now already getting into the fads, and Beldaran has fun annoying her brother. Ce'Nedra keeps them calm though."

"I would imagine she would." Barak laughed. "Your wife has a very penetrating voice."

"You really don't have to tell me, Barak," Garion said, slapping his friend on the back in mirth, "I know all too well."

"Lifes seems to be calming down quite a bit for us, my friends. Even with this new threat, it is really not all that dangerous. We must remember that all the kings are joint against the rebels' causes, right?" Anheg mentioned, leaning back open his care to get into the most comfortable position.

"Silk once told me when I was still on the search for the Orb how we lived in important times, and how now was the time to live." Garion filled in.

"I remember that." Barak laughed. "You know the little thief was right though. I don't what I am going to do without a good war. I don't think the rebels will last more than a year, and then, what else could happen?"

"That is the beauty of the world we live in, Barak." Anheg chuckled. "You never know what is going to happen next. Who knows if it is the end of our adventures or not, only time will tell."

"I guess you are right. Hopefully, they'll be a little war now and then. Fighting tends to heat up one's blood." Barak added.

"I don't think so." Garion disagreed. "The last time the prophecy spoke to me, it said I won't have to be going off running after wars and the such. I would think that means that we can count out any big wars."

Anheg looked at Garion with slight disgust, and Barak shook his head slowly. "One of those things, is it?" Barak stated with slight displeasure.

Garion nodded.

Barak layed his giant arms down against his knees, resting his head on his hands in meloncholy. "Your friend sure knows how to ruin a man's hopes."

Garion could only nod.

Across the hall, a deep conversation was taking place between the Arends who were present in the room at the time. Mikkal was standing in pure awe of the knight, which seemed to be to King Krodullin's amusement. "Child, thou hast never seen the Baron of Vo Mander heretofore?"

Mikkal shook his head slowly, still standing in great awe. "Sir Mandorallen, thine name and crest, known worldwide for their majesty, doeth cause mine weak bones to tremble."

"Dear boy," Mandorallin said pleasantly, "Know that thy heroic actions, forasmuch as thy lack of proper training, thou art quite of the talent thyself."

"Thy words, Sir Mandorallen of Vo Mandor, fill mine weak soul with overwhelming pride, and I shalt be strengthened by thy faith in me for sempiternity."

"Well met, young warrior, well met." King Krodullin laughed.

"Garriel" Cho-Hag called softly to the Garriel, who had been standing on the side doing nothing.

"Would you come over here, there is someone that I would like you to meet."

Garriel could not believe it. Cho-Hag wanted him to meet someone? Maybe it was Hettar, or perhaps even someone better. Quickly, Garriel made his way to Cho-Hags throne, and immediately he was greeting by a friendly smile.

"Hello Garriel," said the old storyteller who had come to their herd time and time again.

"Mr. Storyteller!" Garriel cried in amazement, rubbing his eyes with both his fists. "What are

you doing here? Are you telling stories to kings now as well as us herdsmen!"

Cho-Hag laughed softly, and placed his arm upon the boy's shoulder. Then looking over at the storyteller, he laughed even more. "That he has, child. That he has."

"Did you see Belgarion, Mr. Storyteller! I can't believe I am actually seeing the people around me! It is just like your story of what happened when Belgarath, Polgara and Belgarion went after the Orb of Aldur!" Garriel said in excitement, looking around him to all the people that the storyteller had described so perfectly. They each looked exactly like the image Garriel had imagined them as from the stories.

"Yes, infact, I was talking to Belgarion earlier."

"You talked to Belgarion?" Garriel repeated in awe.

"Yes, I spoke to Belgarion." The storyteller laughed slightly, and looked over to Cho-Hag. "You know, old friend, this one happens to be much brighter than Garion was at his age, however, that is only natural. He didn't grow up under Polgara's influence."

"You're daughter would turn you into a toad if she heard you say that, old friend." Cho-Hag replied, smiling back to the storyteller.

"We don't have to tell I said anything like that, do we?" The storyteller said with a wink.

"Just be glad that Silk wasn't here to hear you say that, old friend. He might have used it for some purpose of his own."

Garriel had heard something in that brief exchange that caused him to stare at the old storyteller in shock. Obviously, the storyteller had a family, and obviously his children had grown up. However, when Cho-Hag mentioned the storyteller's daughter, right after the storyteller himself had mentioned Polgara, made a lump come to his throat.

"Is there something wrong, boy?" The storyteller asked, with an amused look on his face. Garriel looked at him, and then realized that it was true. The descriptions that he was given and the face now looking straight at him were the same, and he realized that he was staring at a legend.

"Bel….Belgarath!" He cried in shock, still staring at the old storyteller.

Cho-Hag looked at the Storyteller, and shook his head slowly. "You mean to tell me that you call someone over that didn't even know who you were. Belgarath, you have no changed a bit."

"Did you expect me to?" Belgarath replied, grinning impishly at the Chief Clan-Chief of the Algars.

Garriel, however, was taking steps back from the now unmasked sorceror. Belgarath turned back to him, with a concerned look upon his face. "Is there something wrong, boy?"

"It's just, so hard to believe that you are really him." Garriel blurted, looking around. No one else, it seemed, was bothered by the fact that the Eternal Man was standing in their mists. Then, without even thinking of it, Garriel fell to his knees, and shakingly looked up to Belgarath. "I am sorry if I have defiled you with my presence, oh Holy Belgarath. Would you please forgive me, and place your wrath upon someone else?"

"He sounds like Relg." Cho-Hag noted.

"Oh, get up, Garriel." Belgarath sighed, stumping down the few steps that led to the Algar throne, and leaning down to help him get up. "You sound like an Ulgo. You don't need to worship me, and I am not mad at you. Actually, I happen to like you, and think that you are brighter than Garion was at your age."

Almost as if hearing his name, Belgarion turned around to face the two. "Was there something you wanted, Grandfather?"

"Nothing, Garion. I was just explaining something to our young friend over here."

Belgarion shrugged and then when back to his conversation with Anheg, Barak and Fulrach.

Garriel realized that he was making a complete fool of himself, and infront of his monarch and the most famous sorceror in the world, no less. "I am sorry. This is all just hitting me all of a sudden, and I.." He was stopped with a movement from Belgarath.

"Don't worry, Garriel. You'll get used to the facts after a while, it is accepting them that is the first step. However, tell me something. Would it make any difference whether I was just the old Storyteller, or Belgarath?"

"No, not at all, Eternal Belgarath." Garriel answered quickly.

Belgarath visibly winced from the name, and shook his head slowly. "Alright then, if that is true, then you can stop with the Eternal, and just call me Belgarath."

"As you wish, sir."

Later that day, while Garriel had gone to the rooms he was granted by the royal family. There, he talked with Mikkal and Sabre, and he was happier to be in alone with them than to be walking around in the company of kings.

"So did you think of today, you guys?" Sabre asked, as he sat up on his bed.

"'Twas truly astonishing to percieve the glory of kings with mine own two eyes, and methinks I shalt never have another experience to equal it." Mikkal replied with even more style than he normally used, probably due to the fact that he had been talking with King Krodullin and the Baron Mandorallen of Vo Mandor.

"How about you, Garriel?"

"I don't know, I mean, it was great to see the kings and all, but things don't make all that much sense." Garriel still had not told him about the Storyteller, and who he truly was. He decided he would later, but first he would have to calm himself down.

"Garriel, you know what I think? I think that you are just uncomfortable with growing, or something like that. You'll find that if you just let it be, everything will come easier, you know what I am saying?"

Mutely Garriel nodded. His friend was right, though he really did not want to totally admit it to himself. For one thing, being confused was much more fun than making sense.

"Alright you guys, I think we'd better get some sleep. Tommorow is going to be an exciting day"

Even after his two friends had fallen asleep, Garriel still thought about the events which had occurred that day. The world was now a changed place for Garriel, and many truths as he knew them were now disrupted, changed with the knowledge of true identities, and he was uncomfortable with the change. His only comfort was in the fact that his two friends had not changed in the slightest and that they were as awe-struck as he was with the current assemblege they found themselves in.

As Garriel laid in his bed, pondering this, he also remembered what that other voice had told him. He still had a long road infront of him? Did that have to do with the fact that he was still growing, learning, or did that have to do with maybe something else. His thoughts were cut short, however, by a shrill cry which echoed throughout the Stronghold, and which demanded the immediate attention of everyone who heard it.

"Fire! Help! Fire!"


	8. Chapter 8

Garriel could see if for himself. Tendrils of orange flame flickered off the wall facing his bedroom door, and he darted from the confines of his room. There, he saw that his friends were waiting for him, pointing in every which direction. In times of emergency, one had no time to think, and before even dicussing what he was doing, or even thinking about it, Garriel ran towards a group of people who were throwing water on the fire.

Garriel then felt something metal hit his stomach. Looking down, he saw that there was an empty pail at his feet. "You!", one of the people called to him, "Take that and get water!"

Garriel thought the man was slightly impolite, just demanding him to get the water. However, after thinking about it for the briefest second, Garriel realized that if he were in the same situation as that man, he would have probably done the same thing. "Where can I get water?"

"The kitchen is a couple halls that way!" The man shouted over the blaze, as he pointed off in a vague direction. "Go quickly! We are running out of water!"

Once again, the hands of emergency gripped a hold of him, and Garriel ran off in that directions with asking any further questions. He didn't know if he was running right into the fire, or if the man was sure that there were no other passages he had to worry about. It wouldn't make a difference now, though, and Garriel stopped at the door way of the kitchen, and was suddenly with a profound fright.

The kitchen was the source of the fire. There were flames everywhere, shooting to the side of the door and out into the halls. There was no way Garriel could make his way to the sink now, he would be burned alive. He would not be able to go back to help the people without water, and there was no way he could think of to stop the fire by himself. There was only one thing left which he could do.

Running down the halls, Garriel was racing against time. He had to get the royal apartments before the fire spread any further. As he ran, he noticed that the area was becoming more serene, though there were no servants in the areas. Obviously, they did not want to wake up their royal guests in response to what they felt was a small crisis. But Garriel had been to the kitchen, and he had noticed that the fire was coming close to the wooden foundation. The entire section of the Stronghold would collapse if that was set aflame.

He checked all the rooms, each one having a different royal couple. King Anheg and Queen Islena slept with thick curtains about their bed, their quarters seemed to be made from the thickest of furs. Emperor Varana's bed seemed to be plated with golden sheets, and even the bedspreads themselves were lined with a golden thread. King Belgarion and Queen Ce'Nedra slept closely together, and their children slept on beds to the side. Strangely, Garriel noticed that there was a young wolf with them, but he paid it no heed. Finally, he got the bedroom he wanted.

This bedroom was strangely plain, with only a single bed in the middle. However, the people he was looking for were already up, one of them waiting for him at the door.

"What is wrong Garriel?" Belgarath asked him. "Couldn't sleep?"

"Isn't that the child from the Algarian herds?" The woman asked, looking at Garriel rather gently.

"Yes, Poledra. He and a couple of his friends joined Silk while he and his wife were on one of their trips."

"Oh…I see."

"Belgarath!" Garriel spoke up quickly. He really did not like to intrude on people's conversations normally, but the time seemed to call for it.

"What is it Garriel?" The old man asked, his face coming a bit more serious as he obviously sensed Garriel's concern.

"There's a fire in the kitchen, and it has caught to the entire side of the Stronghold! I tried to get water for the group, but I was blocked by a wall of fire at the door!" Garriel wanted to go on, but Belgarath raised his hand, signalling to stop.

"Wait, how did this fire start? And what group is this?" He asked.

"I don't know how it started, but there are groups of people who are trying to put it out with buckets of water. I think all the servants in the entire castle have gone to help, because no one tried to stop me when I came here."

"Can you show me where the kitchen is, Garriel?" Belgarath asked.

"I think so…I passed it on my way here." Garriel answered the Eternal Man, though still trying to mentally back track his steps.

"Alright then. That is probably where this fire started." Belgarath concluded. "Bring me there, Garriel. We have to stop this fire before it gets out of hand." Then, he turned to his wife, who seemed to be looking at him with a question in her eyes, his facial expression taking on the form of what seemed to be a difference language. Belgarath answered that expression with one of his own, and Poledra nodded. Then, he turned back to Garriel. "Well, what are you waiting for? Let's get moving."

Garriel once again began to make his way through the royal apartments, although he noticed that even there the smoke of the fire was beginning to reach. However, with the knowledge that Belgarath the Sorceror was behind him, he was not afraid. He continued to follow the billowing clouds of ash towards the crimson tendrils of the fire which were coming from the kitchen. As he walked, he noticed that it was almost as if a path was opened for him, through the flames themselves.

"Is this it?" Belgarath asked, motioning to the flame engulfed room which stood before them.

"Yes, that is it." Garriel answered simply.

Belgarath took a look at the room, and then sighed slightly. Garriel could hear the rush of wind, as he was sure that the old sorceror was preparing to bring a whole storm into the house, and he wondered if he should go off to look for shelter, however the outcome of what Belgarath was doing was no such thing. "Water", he intoned and then, and obviously by magic, rain began to fall from the roof of the room and down onto the flames below. Garriel watched in amazement as the steady downpour, which he thought more to be like a cloudburst rather than a simple drizzle, put out the flames of the fire and the water to form almost a river as it flowed from the kitchen and into the halls about it. Then, as the smoke turned from a jet black to a whitish gray, Belgarath turned back to the fire, and flicked his finger again. "Enough", he said and the rain stopped, like someone had just plugged where it was coming from shut.

"I wonder how this fire started", Belgarath mused outloud. "Usually the cooks and servants are very careful around the fires, and this sort of thing almost never happened."

By now, Garriel was staring at the old man in amazement. Even when he had first heard about the old storyteller's true identity, he did not fully believe it, though that wasn't to say that he doubted King Cho-Hag. However, now that this magical act had been performed, he could do nothing but stand there in awe at the undisputable Ancient Man, who had lived through millenia, watching the peoples progress and follow goals which only he and other sorcerors could fully comprehend.

Noticing that Garriel was staring at him, even in the middle of his thoughts, Belgarath turned to the awe-struck Algarian. "It isn't polite to stare, Garriel."

"Sorry, Ancient One." Garriel slipped into extravagance again, calling the storyteller by his title, rather than his name.

Belgarath took on a pained expression. "I asked you not to call me that, Garriel."

"Sorry Ancient…..eh….Belgarath." Garriel answered, feeling a little bit sheepish.

"It is alright, Garriel, perfectly alright." Then, he looked around, still lost in his thought. "We're going to have to get to the bottom of this, though. I don't think a fire could have started by itself here…no, it's really impossible. Nothing was lit, and the possibility of steel and flint coming together over tinder by themselves is extremely slender." He was apparently speaking to himself, and Garriel tried to listen in, but he really didn't understand. Why would anyone start a fire in the Stronghold?

"Perhaps if someone accidently…" Belgarath was muttering to himself. Garriel paid no attention and instead began to move towards the inner sections of the kitchen. Surely something therein would assist them in finding the cause of the fire.

The first place he checked was by the fires, obviously. There was nothing there, however, except the burnt remains of the nights' meal and a couple of charred logs. He didn't see any sign of an accident, there wasn't a single pan on the floor. Next, he made his way over to the ovens, where the bread was cooked. Again, he didn't find anything that would help him explain the reason fire had just consumed at least a third of the Stronghold's working section.

Garriel continued to check each corner of the kitchen, and by then, Belgarath was long gone. Giving up, he made his way to a seat on the side and looked out through the doorway. There were people running back and forth with hammers and nails, some running with buckets of water to put out what remained of the flames. A lot of the people, he noticed, were servants who were frantically running to fulfill their lords' demands for information. He also noticed a couple of Drasnian spies lurking about, though he was fairly sure that he was not supposed to notice that. Once again, he sighed, and placed his head on his hands, looking into water-filled sink at his reflection.

While looking at his reflection, trying to straighten out for himself everything that was currently happening, he noticed something sunk on the bottom. It appeared to be a piece of paper, with writing scribbled on it. Reaching into the water, he pulled that note out from the sink and held it carefully in his hands so that it would not fall apart.

Ever since Queen Silar had banished the Bear Cult from the Stronghold, education around Algaria had actually improved. It was because of this that Garian was literate, and it was because of this that he was able to read what was written on the note. The handwriting was rather clumsy, and the script was half washed away by the water. Garriel's eyes, however, were able to pick out what was written there, word by word.

"We, the people of Ans Cthrog, the force for the Angarak liberation from the Western contraint, do claim responsibility for the fire which occurred at the Stronghold. We believe that the peace between the Angarak and Western nations is a most unholy thing, something that spits in the face of the spirit our holy and all powerful God, Torak. We demand that the alliance be broken.

Be it known that should this alliance continue, our attacks will increase in number and in severity.

We also detest the new abomination, Eriond. This Alorn sorceror is akin to the evil Belgarath, and son to the vile Polgara. He is no God, and we will not accept his dominion.

Consider the fire a warning. What will happen next will be far worse."


	9. Chapter 9

Garion was having the most wonderful dream. He was back at Faldor's Farm living in a small room with his wife and children. Instead of sitting on the throne half the day signing petty documents, he was out in the open fields planting and harvesting, and doing everything that a farmhand was expected of. Ce'Nedra had become the head of the household, making sure that everything was set and ready for any occasion, whether it be with gifts, money, horses or food. Geran and Beldaran were playing with friends in the barn, scolded by their mother or Aunt Pol whenever they misbehaved, but never too harshly. Durnik was back at the smithy, and Aunt Pol was busy in the kitchen, putting the final touches to the day's evening meal. Life was simple and sweet, with time to enjoy the plain happiness of life and one's family.

However, that uncomplicated life was broken when there was a sudden loud rapping at the door. Garion slowly awoke, opening one eye to look around the room. Ce'Nedra was still sleeping, and it still seemed to be not too early in the morning. Perhaps the servant had been mistaken when he knocked, accidentally banging into the door while on his way to somewhere else. Garion settled back down to get some more sleep.

There was another knock at the door. Obviously, the person at the door wanted something. Garion heard the bedsheets ruffle in slight movement, and looked over to his wife. Ce'Nedra was barely awake, and through squinting eyes she looked to Garion and then to the door. After the briefest of glances, she settled herself back down and snuggled into a comfortable position.

"Can you see what he wants Garion?" she asked. So ended Garion's sleep for the night.

"Yes dear." Garion replied to his wife. There was no sense in arguing on the fact that he always seemed to be the one that had to get up early to answer the door, his attempts would probably have no impact. Anyway, it was probably better this way, since Ce'Nedra usually wore a very short nightgown to bed and Garion's Sendarian ethics dictated to him that she was not dressed suitably for visitors.

Making his way up, he tied the sash about his robe more tightly and climbed down the three stairs that led up to the bed. Wearily, he made his way to the door and opened it slowly. To his surprise, he found that Silk was standing infront of him with a slightly upset look in his eyes.

"Good morning, Garion. How did you sleep?" The short man asked.

"Pretty well up until now. Was there any reason that you had to wake me up at the crack of dawn, Silk?" Garion answered testily. Even though he could tell something was wrong, he was always a little bit edgy in the morning.

"Well now!" Silk exclaimed in feigned shock. "There's no need to be grumpy about it! Can't a man ask how another man is doing without a sword looming in his face?"

"The reason you came Silk. Now." Garion said shortly. He really wasn't in the mood for Silk's games.

"Temper, temper." Silk chided lightly. The next moment, though, he once again took on the grave expression that Garion had seen when he answered the door. "There is going to be a meeting of the monarchs this morning, in about an hour or two. Belgarath sent me over here to tell you."

"You know, Silk, you could have said that in the first place." Garion sighed wearily.

"Yes, but then you would have still been too asleep to really understand." Silk replied, once again taking on his normal good-humored and mocking idiom. "The joking lasted long enough to become awake, you see? Had I not done it, you would have gone back to that comfortable looking bed of yours and drifted back to slumber."

"You're enjoying this." Garion stated, not even asking for an answer.

"Actually, I would have prefered not to even have to come here in the first place."

"Why did you come then? What happened?" Garion asked, suddenly intent.

"I imagine that you'll find out at the meeting. However, I need to go take a look around. I'll see you in about an hour." With that, Silk left.

If Silk had to go look for information, the situation was definitely more serious than Garion had throught. He wondered what could have occurred in one night.

Remembering that his wife and children were still sound asleep, Garion walked to the closet as softly as he could, and proceeded to pick out what clothes he would wear to that council.

"I'll rip apart the Stronghold and find out who was responsible!" Garion could easily hear Anheg's loud roar from even two halls down. Taking a brisker pace, he rounded the corner and entered a half filled throne room. Belgarath was there, Anheg and Barak, Cho-Hag and Zakath . It seemed that Silk was still rounding all the other dignitaries, rousing them from slumber.

"You won't do anything of the sort, Anheg." Belgarath corrected the fuming monarch sternly. "First of all, this is not your country, nor is this your building to demolish. Secondly, I am not willing to start a war on an issue that, as far as we know, can be resolved diplomatically and Thirdly, and most importantly, you are letting your excitement of a possible battle severly cloud your judgment. Either control yourself or I will have Barak and Hettar, when he gets here, pull you back to your bed chamber and lock the door from the outside."

Garion was confused. He still had no idea what was going on, but whatever it was caused Anheg to be filled with rage and forced his Grandfather to take on a tone that, while he knew the sorceror easily possessed and used, he did not particular enjoy demonstrating. "Sorry for just butting in, and forgive my impatience, but what exactly is going on?"

"There was a fire in the Stronghold. A rather large one until it was taken care of." Belgarath provided the simple answer.

"A fire?" Anheg raged. "That was no fire, Belgarath. That was arson. The group for the liberation of whatever deliberately set fire to the Stronghold! I thought we were done with these wars, but I guess the resolution of the Prophecy doesn't mean peace for those who followed it, does it?!"

Zakath sat quitely, one of his hands covering his left eye in what appeared to be exhaustion, though Garion perceived it to be with a misunderstand rather than with any lack of sleep. He had known Zakath to function quite capably on almost no sleep at all, though he did not function happily at those times. "I think you misunderstood the note, Anheg. It said to break the alliance, so I don't think this was directed at you Alorns in the slightest. In fact, I think that this was an threat against Urgit, myself, Nathel and Drosta. They want Angaraks to separate themselves from the rest of the Western World and wall ourselves in again."

Cho-Hag nodded. "I'd have to agree with Zakath . The unforunate price of the fire was placed upon Algaria and my children as a result of the council meeting. Had it not occurred, I believe they may have attacked some other Angarak interest."

"I think they are right, cousin. As much as I would love to join you and dismember those responsible, we should probably wait until everyone gets here before doing anything particularly rash." Barak had one of his hands on his cousin's shoulders the entire time, holding him down from flying apart. Anheg was still red in the face, but this time it was a mixture of his fury, for Chereks did not let go of their anger so quickly unless they were able to physically entertain their frustration on a usually very unfortunate opponent, and embarassment.

It did not take so much longer for the rest of the room to be filled with the visiting dignitaries. Silk, it appeared, had chosen an order where the late risers were woken earlier and forced to wait for those who normally waited for them. "That's the last of them." The small man announced as he walked in alone.


End file.
